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Henri Lefebvre and Marxism: A view from the Frankfurt School

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Le­fe­b­vre and con­tem­por­ary
in­ter­pret­a­tions of Marx

Al­fred Schmidt
Frankfurt, 1968

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In re­cent years the lit­er­at­ure that has ap­peared about, for, and against Marx and Marx­ism has in­creased to the point where it can hardly be sur­veyed. Yet it would be false to con­clude that the de­bate over mat­ters of con­tent has been ad­vanced. To the ex­tent that this lit­er­at­ure does not speak the lan­guage of the Cold War and at­tempt to es­tab­lish a du­bi­ous “counter-ideo­logy,” it pro­duces (as polit­ic­al sci­ence or Krem­lino­logy) works full of in­form­a­tion con­cern­ing the state of So­viet Marx­ist doc­trines in terms of their de­pend­ence on cur­rent polit­ic­al trends. To the ex­tent that Marxi­an the­ory it­self still enters its field of vis­ion, it is dulled by the fact that people (gen­er­ally fol­low­ing Karl Löwith) clas­si­fy it in the his­tor­ic­al tra­di­tion of Søren Kierkegaard and Friedrich Ni­et­z­sche, or else re­duce it to an ahis­tor­ic­al in­ter­pret­a­tion of the prob­lem­at­ic of ali­en­a­tion in the Eco­nom­ic and Philo­soph­ic­al Manuscripts.

On the oth­er hand, the group of au­thors hon­estly in­ter­ested in the fur­ther de­vel­op­ment of Marxi­an the­ory is ex­cep­tion­ally small. They are able to ab­stract from what still fre­quently passes for Marx­ism in the East­ern half of the world without deny­ing the ob­ject­ive sig­ni­fic­ance of the East-West con­flict for their thought. They have in­volved them­selves in­tens­ively with texts of Hegel and Marx, which by no means have fi­nally been dis­posed of, without fall­ing in­to the hair-split­ting on­to­logy — with its con­sec­rated body of quo­ta­tions — that is typ­ic­al for the post-Sta­lin­ist peri­od in So­viet philo­sophy. To this group be­longs Henri Le­fe­b­vre (who has re­cently be­come known in Ger­many through his acute ana­lys­is of Sta­lin­ism).1 His writ­ings are in­dis­pens­able to those who aim at an ad­equate (and there­fore crit­ic­al) un­der­stand­ing of Marx with­in the lim­its of the al­tern­at­ives that have been in­sti­tu­tion­al­ized in the polit­ic­al arena: either call­ing dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism a “wa­ter­tight world­view” (Robert Mu­sil) or dis­miss­ing it out of hand as a product of the dis­cred­ited nine­teenth cen­tury.

If a pub­lish­er has de­cided to bring out an edi­tion of Le ma­té­ria­lisme dia­lec­tique,2 a work that ap­peared over three dec­ades ago, it is be­cause it has scarcely lost its ac­tu­al­ity — aside from a few points that needed cor­rec­tion. The philo­soph­ic­al dis­cus­sion of Marx­ism that began dir­ectly after the First World War with Ernst Bloch’s Spir­it of Uto­pia and Georg Lukács’ His­tory and Class Con­scious­ness, and was es­pe­cially furthered by Karl Korsch, Her­bert Mar­cuse, Max Horkheimer, and Theodor Ad­orno, broke off with Hitler’s seizure of power. There­fore, works on Marx from that peri­od, as well as those writ­ten in west­ern Europe in the late thirties, are still of great im­port­ance to us: not least be­cause those works ap­proached prob­lems in a way far more polit­ic­al and closer to real­ity than was pos­sible for the new West Ger­man at­tempts at an in­ter­pret­a­tion of Marx after 1945, which re­mained more or less aca­dem­ic. These were all es­sen­tially centered on the “young Marx” in whom the au­thors (Thi­er, Po­pitz, Fromm) wanted to see an “ex­ist­en­tial thinker.”

Since Le­fe­b­vre’s book also seems at first glance to be­long to the ex­ist­ence-philo­soph­ic­al, mor­al­iz­ing, and ab­stract an­thro­po­lo­gic­al school of in­ter­pret­a­tion, it seems ne­ces­sary to make the read­er some­what more con­vers­ant with Le­fe­b­vre’s in­tel­lec­tu­al de­vel­op­ment.3 Only on that basis can the cent­ral concept of “ali­en­a­tion” in his Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism be un­der­stood and dif­fer­en­ti­ated from in­ter­pret­a­tions us­ing this concept in a sense al­most ex­actly op­posed to the Marxi­an one.

First, some dates in pre-World War II French philo­sophy. About the year 1930, the philo­soph­ic­al as­pect of Marx­ism began to arouse in­terest in France. At the same time, a broad gen­er­al re­ceptiv­ity to­ward Hegel, in­ter­woven with at­ti­tudes to­ward Kierkegaard, was an­nounced by Jean Wahl’s book, Le mal­heur de la con­science dans la phi­lo­soph­ie de He­gel. Wahl is in­clined to re­duce the rich­ness of Hegel’s work to the stage of the “un­happy con­scious­ness.” With this em­phas­is on the ro­mantic mo­ment in Hegel, it be­comes al­most im­possible to sep­ar­ate Hegel and Kierkegaard. Sub­sequently, the ap­pro­pri­ation of the ideal­ist dia­lectic is par­alleled by an in­ter­pret­a­tion of Marx’s early writ­ings in the light of Heide­g­ger’s Be­ing and Time. This pro­cess led to the birth of the French vari­ety of ex­ist­en­tial on­to­logy: to ex­ist­en­tial­ism. It was com­pleted between 1933 and 1938, years in which Al­ex­an­dre Kojève gave his now fam­ous lec­tures on the Phe­nomen­o­logy of Spir­it4 at the Ecole des Hautes Et­udes be­fore stu­dents such as Jean-Paul Sartre, Maurice Mer­leau-Ponty, Ray­mond Aron, and R. P. Fes­sard. These lec­tures fol­low the same ques­tion­able lines as Wahl and see ac­cess to Hegel’s en­tire oeuvre in a single level of con­scious­ness. With Kojève, it is the much-com­men­ted-on chapter “De­pend­ence and In­de­pend­ence of Self-Con­scious­ness: Lord­ship and Bond­age.” Al­though he wants his in­ter­pret­a­tion of Hegel to be con­sidered “Marx­ist,” he does not fo­cus on Marx’s ma­ter­i­al­ist “in­ver­sion” of the dia­lectic. Rather, as Fetscher em­phas­izes, Kojève already sees in the phe­nomen­o­lo­gic­al dia­lectic it­self “all the ul­ti­mate con­sequences of the Marx­ist philo­sophy of his­tory.”5 Thus “mo­tifs of thought” that first arose from Marx’s cri­tique of Hegel are ascribed to Hegel. But even Marx’s po­s­i­tion is not done justice, since Kojève lags be­hind his claim that one should el­ev­ate one­self to real his­tory, that is, to the con­crete forms of hu­man re­la­tion­ships, which are de­term­ined dif­fer­ently at dif­fer­ent mo­ments in time. In­stead, he is sat­is­fied with the sterile defin­i­tion of a Heide­g­geri­an “his­tor­icity of ex­ist­ence” that is sup­posedly present in the Phe­nomen­o­logy of Mind as an “ex­ist­en­tial”6 and rad­ic­ally “fi­nite”7 an­thro­po­logy. Ac­cord­ing to Kojève, the an­thro­po­lo­gic­al char­ac­ter of Hegel­i­an thought be­comes un­der­stand­able only on the basis of Heide­g­ger’s em­phas­is on “on­to­lo­gic­al fi­nitude,” al­though the an­thro­po­logy of Be­ing and Time (which Kojève as­serts in op­pos­i­tion to Heide­g­ger’s in­ten­tion) adds noth­ing new to that de­veloped by Hegel.

The sup­posedly broad­er “an­thro­po­lo­gic­al-on­to­lo­gic­al basis”8 with which Kojève wants to dote dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism is more li­able to re­duce it to a doc­trine of in­vari­able struc­tures. Not the least of the ways that this would de­vel­op is in strictly polit­ic­al terms. In­so­far as Kojève breaks the struc­tur­al ele­ments of the Mas­ter-Slave dia­lectic away from its spe­cif­ic his­tor­ic­al back­ground (which must al­ways be thought of with it), he in­flates labor and the struggle for life and death in­to etern­al factors, à la so­cial Dar­win­ism. Stripped of every con­crete de­term­in­a­tion, man ap­pears as an es­sence “which is al­ways con­scious of his death, of­ten freely as­sumes it and some­times know­ingly and freely chooses it”; Hegel’s “an­thro­po­lo­gic­al philo­sophy” is viewed as “ul­ti­mately one… of death.”9 Ana­chron­ist­ic­ally, and thus in a way that fals­i­fies Hegel, Kojève equates the struggle for “re­cog­ni­tion” with a “fight for pure prestige.”10 Hu­man es­sence and know­ledge con­sti­tutes it­self with a de­cided “risk” of life. It is as if “self-con­scious ex­ist­ence is pos­sible only where there are or — at least — where there have been bloody fights, wars for prestige.”11 On the oth­er hand, it mat­ters little that he ab­stractly holds firm to the idea of the “realm of free­dom” that Hegel an­ti­cip­ated and that has to be real­ized by Marx­ism.12 It is a re­con­ciled con­di­tion that does not oc­cupy a situ­ation, in which neg­at­iv­ity (time and ac­tion in their present mean­ings) ceases, as do philo­sophy, re­volu­tions and wars as well: his “polit­ic­al-ex­ist­en­tial” an­thro­po­logy sharpened by “de­cision­ism” bears fas­cist­oid traces.13 If one starts from the premise that the Hegel and Marx ex­eges­is out­lined here was dom­in­ant in the France of the thirties, it be­comes clear that Le­fe­b­vre, even with all the un­avoid­able con­ces­sions to the spir­it of the times, took a path all his own. Op­posed to every on­to­logy, to the late-bour­geois as well as to the Sta­lin­ist ones, he de­veloped him­self in­to a crit­ic­al Marx­ist whose stand­ards grew out of a ma­ter­i­al­ist ana­lys­is of the course of his­tory. His aca­dem­ic teach­ers were hardly ap­pro­pri­ate to lead his thought in this dir­ec­tion. In Aix-en-Provence he stud­ied Au­gustine and Pas­cal14 with the lib­er­al Cath­ol­ic Maurice Blondel, and at the Sor­bonne he worked with Léon Brun­schvig, the “in­tel­lec­tu­al­iste” philo­soph­er of judg­ment who was an en­emy of every dia­lectic. What made Le­fe­b­vre (by no means without con­flict) turn to Marx­ism had little to do with uni­versity philo­sophy. It was the polit­ic­al and so­cial up­heavals of the post­war peri­od, and more par­tic­u­larly per­son­al prob­lems, psy­cho­ana­lys­is, and as­so­ci­ation with the lit­er­ary and artist­ic av­ant-garde, the sur­real­ist move­ment.15 Lastly, it was the sus­pi­cion, which turned in­to a firm con­vic­tion, that philo­sophy as it had been handed down to us had demon­strated that it in­creas­ingly was less able to come to grips with, not to men­tion mas­ter, the prob­lems posed by the his­tor­ic­al situ­ation of be­ing and con­scious­ness in so­ci­ety. At this point, the call of Marx and En­gels, in their early writ­ings, for the “neg­a­tion” of philo­sophy and the turn to­ward a prax­is “which would real­ize philo­soph­ic­al in­sight,” seemed to of­fer it­self to him. A pos­sib­il­ity seemed to open up, not only of more or less ar­tic­u­lately mir­ror­ing the frag­ment­a­tion de­vel­op­ing in mod­ern ex­ist­ence — the way it happened in ir­ra­tion­alist ideo­lo­gies — but of grasp­ing it con­cretely, that is, as something which could be tran­scen­ded.

Thus, from the out­set, Le­fe­b­vre’s Marx­ism is neither the pos­it­iv­ist­ic­ally lim­ited one of the nat­ur­al sci­ent­ist who seeks to sat­is­fy the needs of his world view, nor that of the prac­tic­al politi­cian to whom it is simply a means of ra­tion­al­iz­ing spe­cif­ic meas­ures. Fetscher cor­rectly in­dic­ates that fact,10 but when he sees the spe­cificity of Le­fe­b­vre’s view of Marx in an­thro­po­logy, more dis­cus­sion is re­quired, so as to avoid the mis­un­der­stand­ings that lie close at hand in such an in­ter­pret­a­tion.

First of all, as crit­ic­al the­or­eti­cians in gen­er­al have re­peatedly em­phas­ized, Marx is not con­cerned with a “philo­soph­ic­al an­thro­po­logy” in Schel­er’s sense of stat­ic pre­cepts con­cern­ing the “con­struc­tion of the es­sence of Man.” Such an an­thro­po­logy sets the im­possible task of demon­strat­ing the ex­act man­ner in which “all spe­cif­ic mono­pol­ies, achieve­ments and works of man­kind pro­ceed” from a “ba­sic struc­ture of the hu­man be­ing,” in­clud­ing his­tory and so­ci­ety, which, char­ac­ter­ist­ic­ally enough, Schel­er handles in the ri­gid­i­fied form of “his­tor­icity” and “so­ciality.”17 However much an­thro­po­lo­gic­al writers have tried to in­cor­por­ate change and be­com­ing in­to the idea of hu­man nature, the con­tent of the his­tory of this idea must, nev­er­the­less, re­main ex­tern­al to these con­cepts, be­cause the way they pose the ques­tion is based on a strictly con­ceived hier­archy.

Marx is equally little con­cerned with prob­ing the etern­al struc­ture of hu­man labor in the man­ner of his fun­da­ment­al-on­to­lo­gic­al in­ter­pret­ers who, like Kojève, also want to end up with an an­thro­po­logy that is ba­sic­ally for­eign to his­tory. What emerges in Marx as the gen­er­ally val­id struc­ture of hu­man labor is a concept fixed by thought, in which con­di­tions com­mon to all stages of pro­duc­tion can be de­term­ined. “But,” says the Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Eco­nomy, “the so-called gen­er­al con­di­tions of all pro­duc­tion are noth­ing but ab­stract mo­ments with which no ac­tu­al his­tor­ic­al stage of pro­duc­tion can be grasped.”18 This po­s­i­tion by no means typ­i­fies only Marx’s eco­nom­ic ana­lyses. Pre­cisely those early writ­ings, which are al­ways quoted in or­der to treat Marx as an on­to­lo­gist, yield little for such an in­ter­pret­a­tion.

Thus the Ger­man Ideo­logy stresses that by present­ing the prac­tic­al life-pro­cesses of men (not of man), in­de­pend­ent philo­sophy loses its “me­di­um of ex­ist­ence” and can be re­placed at best by a “sum­ming-up of the most gen­er­al res­ults, ab­strac­tions which arise from the ob­ser­va­tion of the his­tor­ic­al de­vel­op­ment of men.”19 To that sen­tence, Marx and En­gels un­equi­voc­ally add:

Viewed apart from real his­tory, these ab­strac­tions have in them­selves no value what­so­ever. They can only serve to fa­cil­it­ate the ar­range­ment of his­tor­ic­al ma­ter­i­al, to in­dic­ate the se­quence of its sep­ar­ate strata. But they by no means af­ford a re­cipe or schema, as does philo­sophy, for neatly trim­ming the epochs of his­tory.20

As if the au­thors of these sen­tences had nev­er writ­ten them, the on­to­lo­giz­ing in­ter­pret­ers of Marx res­ol­utely make what are ex­pli­citly re­ferred to as help­ful con­cepts, the res­ults of the ana­lys­is of ma­ter­i­als, pre­cede the ma­ter­i­als as their con­stitu­ent be­ing. No dif­fer­ently did Ni­et­z­sche’s Göt­zen­däm­me­rung brand the πρῶτον ψεῦδος [“pro­ton pseudos” or primary lie — Eds.] of the meta­phys­ic­al en­ter­prise. Un­der the guise of rad­ic­al­iz­ing his­tor­ic­al con­scious­ness, his­tory is elim­in­ated. All that re­mains of it is that it ex­ists: his­tor­icity.Le­fe­b­vre cri­ti­cized both of these meth­od­o­lo­gic­ally in­ter­re­lated lines of in­ter­pret­a­tion, and not least of all Kojève’s “neo-Hegel­i­an de­vi­ation,”21 in which the “an­thro­po­lo­gic­al” and the “on­to­lo­gic­al” are linked. He ex­posed the weak­nesses of Ger­man ex­ist­en­tial philo­sophy (Jaspers),22 no less than those of French ex­ist­en­tial­ism and its Husser­li­an-Heide­g­geri­an roots.23 This fun­da­ment­al op­pos­i­tion is not weakened by the oc­ca­sion­al res­on­ances of an ex­ist­en­tial vocab­u­lary in Le­fe­b­vre’s writ­ings. He does not in­fringe on its ma­ter­i­al­ist char­ac­ter, yet for him Marx­ism is not a philo­sophy of be­ing, but a philo­sophy of concept.

The fact that in ret­ro­spect Le­fe­b­vre now terms his 1925 at­ti­tudes “ex­ist­en­tial­ist” should not be un­der­stood in the sense of the term es­tab­lished later. Rather, it means that he and his friends, un­der the pres­sures of the con­di­tions of the time and the ster­il­ity of of­fi­cial philo­sophy, wrestled with prob­lems which im­me­di­ately af­fected their men­tal (and not only men­tal) ex­ist­ence. Day-to-day per­son­al ex­per­i­ence ex­posed the lim­its that were set by the bour­geois world on the free de­vel­op­ment of hu­man tal­ents and needs, and showed the ex­tent to which mod­ern so­ci­ety suffered from a frag­men­ted self, which the young Hegel had already called the “foun­tain­head of the needs of philo­sophy.”24 Gran­ted, the cri­tique of this frag­ment­a­tion that Le­fe­b­vre un­der­took dur­ing the years 1925-1929 did not yet ful­fill the cri­ter­ia which he later de­veloped in the idea of a “cri­tique of every­day life.” To the ex­tent that it does not dis­ap­pear in­to the ab­stract im­me­di­acy of mere re­volt, it re­mains caught in just that schol­ast­ic philo­sophy of whose in­suf­fi­ciency, as we have said, no one was more con­scious than Le­fe­b­vre him­self. Dur­ing those years, even he suc­cumbed to the cult of the in­creas­ingly im­pov­er­ished self — a “with­draw­al neur­os­is,”25 which could grow to the point at which the in­ner self is en­tirely cut off from the out­er world and robbed of all con­tent, is driv­en to­ward its own self-de­struc­tion at the same time that it claims to be con­cerned with hu­man well-be­ing. At the same time, Le­fe­b­vre’s with­draw­al in­to pure in­ter­i­or­ity — more a symp­tom than a cri­tique of what ex­ists — is streaked with the slowly dawn­ing in­sight that the world does not ex­haust it­self in Bergson’s stream of con­scious­ness, that what mat­ters is find­ing one’s way back to ob­jects: Ret­rou­ver l’ob­jet.”26

However, Le­fe­b­vre’s de­sire to es­cape from the bind of cramped sub­jectiv­ity and to at­tain a more con­crete me­di­um of thought was not real­ized im­me­di­ately. When he ad­hered to Com­mun­ism in 1928, he saw less clearly than be­fore. True, in 1930 he read Hegel, and Marx’s Cap­it­al. But at first, the books that were de­cis­ive, as for many Marx­ist neo­phytes, were En­gels’ Anti-Dühring and Len­in’s Ma­ter­i­al­ism and Em­pirio-Cri­ti­cism — books which, be­cause of their ma­ter­i­al­ist overzeal­ous­ness, teach a massive ob­ject­iv­ism rather than a sci­entif­ic ob­jectiv­ity thor­oughly pen­et­rated by con­cepts. It is un­der­stand­able that after ad­opt­ing these dog­mat­ic po­s­i­tions, Le­fe­b­vre also in­ter­preted the later En­gels’ state­ments on pre­vi­ous philo­sophy (which are in fact am­bigu­ous) to mean that so­cial­ist the­ory, as a “pos­it­ive sci­ence,” ab­jures all philo­sophy. Thus, ma­ter­i­al­ism be­comes syn­onym­ous with a strict re­nun­ci­ation of ab­strac­tion. When Le­fe­b­vre be­came aware of the con­tra­dic­tion con­tained in that po­s­i­tion, namely that if one totally re­jects ab­strac­tion (in par­tic­u­lar, we must add, the the­ory of the equi­val­ency of ex­change, which is de­cis­ive for Marx), it is im­possible to jus­ti­fy the sci­entif­ic use of con­cepts, then con­flicts with the Party be­came in­ev­it­able. Since the late twen­ties, the Party had been con­cerned with its “Bolshev­iz­a­tion.” Un­der the pre­tense of ad­opt­ing the Len­in­ist or­gan­iz­a­tion­al mod­el, it was form­ing an ap­par­at­us to which, with Stal­in’s in­creas­ing in­flu­ence over non-Rus­si­an Parties, every in­tel­lec­tu­al ef­fort was ruth­lessly sub­or­din­ated.

One must start from this fun­da­ment­al pro­cess of trans­form­a­tion of the French Com­mun­ist Party in or­der to judge ad­equately the works Le­fe­b­vre pub­lished between 1930 and 1940. They were against both mod­ern au­thor­it­ari­an, ir­ra­tion­al ideo­logy27 and against the at­tempts of Party Com­mun­ists to either re­duce Marx’s teach­ings to a nar­rowly con­ceived eco­nom­ist­ic the­ory, or to broaden them in­to a pos­it­ive world view (“sci­entif­ic ideo­logy”) and an ab­stract meth­od­o­logy of the nat­ur­al sci­ences. Le­fe­b­vre, sim­il­ar to Karl Korsch in that re­spect, is not merely con­cerned with “situ­at­ing” Marx­ism with­in philo­sophy or with­in sci­ence, since Marx­ist spec­u­lat­ive philo­sophy tran­scends the em­pir­i­cism of all the in­di­vidu­al sci­ences. Le­fe­b­vre knows that the way philo­sophy and sci­ence merge in­to the spe­cific­ally Marx­ist concept of a cri­tique is dis­con­tinu­ous and, there­fore, it qual­it­at­ively changes them. That this cri­tique claims to be a sci­ence not only does not stand in op­pos­i­tion to philo­sophy, it rests pre­cisely on a philo­soph­ic­al dis­tinc­tion: that between im­me­di­acy and re­flec­tion, ap­pear­ance and es­sence.

These are cat­egor­ies linked with the name of Hegel. Le­fe­b­vre ex­pli­citly re­joined Hegel’s dia­lectic when in the early thirties he turned to ques­tions of lo­gic and of (his­tor­ic­al) meth­od, to the prob­lem of “real hu­man­ism” and to the the­ory of ideo­lo­gic­al il­lu­sion. At that point, just as Lukács had done pre­vi­ously in His­tory and Class Con­scious­ness, he came up against the prob­lem of the ob­ject­ive mean­ing of the Hegel­i­an meth­od for the Marx­ist one. He re­cog­nizes that this prob­lem can be ap­proached ad­equately only when the his­tor­ic­al char­ac­ter of the Marx­ist meth­od, en­er­get­ic­ally stressed by Lukács, is ap­plied not only to its ob­jects, but also to it­self. In oth­er words: neither for Marx nor for us is this meth­od a ma­ter­i­al­ist cor­rect­ive of Hegel that is giv­en once and for all. Just as Marx (and this is not simply a philo­lo­gic­al ques­tion) eval­u­ated his re­la­tion to Hegel quite dif­fer­ently at dif­fer­ent stages of de­vel­op­ment, we must also re­in­ter­pret afresh the Hegel-Marx re­la­tion with re­spect to con­tinu­ity and dis­crete­ness, and ac­cord­ing to the state of his­tory and the nature of our the­or­et­ic­al in­terests that are de­term­ined by it. Thus something like a well-roun­ded “Marx­ist im­age of Hegel” is im­possible for Le­fe­b­vre.28

He con­siders Hegel’s Lo­gic and Phe­nomen­o­logy from the view­point of a ma­ter­i­al­ist philo­sophy of his­tory which, as a “sci­ence of hu­man real­ity,”29 takes up in their trans­it­ory, his­tor­ic­ally con­crete de­term­in­a­tions those ques­tions that can be hy­po­stas­ized from philo­soph­ic­al an­thro­po­logy and the “ex­ist­en­tial” move­ment and ap­plied as such to a man in gen­er­al. Be­cause Le­fe­b­vre also terms, the Marx­ist sci­ence of hu­man real­ity a “gen­er­al an­thro­po­logy,”30 it seems ne­ces­sary to re­turn to Fetscher’s state­ment con­cern­ing the ba­sic­ally an­thro­po­lo­gic­al char­ac­ter of his un­der­stand­ing of Marx, es­pe­cially be­cause we have tried to de­scribe the way the an­thro­po­lo­gic­al-on­to­lo­gic­al in­ter­pret­a­tion of Marx de­vi­ates from the po­s­i­tion of both Marx and of Le­fe­b­vre.

As we have said, Le­fe­b­vre’s concept of an­thro­po­logy does not aim at a supra­tem­por­al sub­stance; for him man is con­tained in what Marx calls “the world of men, state, so­ci­ety,”31 that is, in an his­tor­ic­al re­la­tion­ship that must, in turn, be ex­amined in its present con­crete form. The gen­er­al hu­man es­sence is whatever it is in its par­tic­u­lar mani­fest­a­tion; this es­sence, however, presents it­self at a par­tic­u­lar stage of the con­flict between man and nature. Per­haps one should say: at this stage, the stage of “pre­his­tory,” it is what it is not — an un­ful­filled prom­ise. In two re­spects, this rad­ic­al his­tor­ic­al and philo­soph­ic­al con­cep­tion of an­thro­po­logy serves a po­lem­ic­al func­tion for Le­fe­b­vre. First, he needs it to render con­ceiv­able the work the concept has to do epi­stem­o­lo­gic­ally, in terms of the “ma­ter­i­al­ity” pre­sup­posed by dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism. In ad­di­tion, it is op­posed to the gross re­duc­tion of the cri­tique of polit­ic­al eco­nomy in­to eco­nom­ism.

Marx stands in op­pos­i­tion to the meta­phys­ic­al theses of the later En­gels, can­on­ized by Stal­in and So­viet Marx­ism, that Nature as it ex­is­ted be­fore any hu­man or so­cial in­ter­ven­tion, con­tains a dia­lect­ic­al move­ment; in op­pos­i­tion also to Len­in’s at­tempt to “define” mat­ter as a real­ity in­de­pend­ent of con­scious­ness and to view cog­ni­tion as a copy of real­ity. For Marx the ma­ter­i­al­ist, dia­lect­ic­al cat­egor­ies ex­ist only as nod­al points in his­tor­ic­al prax­is, that is, in a ma­ter­i­al real­ity that is con­tinu­ally be­ing me­di­ated through hu­man ac­tions that also be­long to the ma­ter­i­al and ob­ject­ive world. Only this is “neg­at­iv­ity” — “a mov­ing and pro­du­cing prin­ciple.”32 It was not Marx’s job to “fix” gnos­eo­lo­gic­ally the ma­ter­i­als worked by labor, and in which labor is in­cor­por­ated: the spe­cif­ic de­term­in­a­tion of ma­ter­i­als is just as much a passing mo­ment of the pro­duc­tion pro­cess as is their very dis­ap­pear­ance. Every me­di­at­ing act re­con­sti­t­utes in a high­er form the im­me­di­acy that it des­troyed.

The ne­ces­sity, ex­pressed for the first time by the early Lukács, of lim­it­ing the valid­ity of the dia­lectic to the his­tor­ic­al and so­cial world33 has since then be­come the un­spoken pre­sup­pos­i­tion of every ser­i­ous in­ter­pret­a­tion of Marx.34 Le­fe­b­vre could nev­er be on good terms with a “ma­ter­i­al­ism of the isol­ated ob­ject.” He al­ways con­sidered any concept of the ma­ter­i­al world that did not in­clude f its prac­tic­al (or at least po­ten­tially prac­tic­al) ap­pro­pri­ations as a pure ab­strac­tion. Since Marx­ism was taught in its Sta­lin­ized co­di­fic­a­tion for dec­ades, thinkers such as Sartre,35 for whom the sac­ri­fi­ci­um in­tel­lect­us was too great, hes­it­ated to ad­opt it for an un­ne­ces­sar­ily long time.

The as­pect of what Le­fe­b­vre calls an­thro­po­logy, which is dir­ec­ted against eco­nom­ism, is also a cri­tique of naïve-real­ist­ic con­scious­ness. Even Marx him­self, and not just his vul­gar­izers, oc­ca­sion­ally falls in­to the er­ror of rais­ing what he op­poses to a meth­od­o­lo­gic­al norm — the re­ific­a­tion of hu­man re­la­tion­ships. His present­ing the primacy of a neg­at­ive to­tal­ity over in­di­vidu­als sud­denly turns in­to a kind of tak­ing sides in fa­vor of that to­tal­ity. The re­ified power of his­tor­ic­al-eco­nom­ic pro­cesses, their ob­ject­ively ali­en­ated as­pect, swal­lows up the sub­ject­ive hu­man side, which is then taken in­to con­sid­er­a­tion only un­der the head­ing of “ideo­lo­gic­al re­flexes and echoes.”36 The spe­cific­ally so­cial mani­fest­a­tions dis­ap­pear in­to their eco­nom­ic es­sence. Le­fe­b­vre, not in­cor­rectly, be­lieves that he re­mains true to the idea of a cri­tique of polit­ic­al eco­nomy when he un­der­lines the ir­re­du­cib­il­ity of hu­man and so­cial spheres to the eco­nom­ic one.37 That idea con­sists of not ca­pit­u­lat­ing to the “nat­ur­al” ob­jectiv­ity of the his­tor­ic­al pro­cess as a whole. Marxi­an dia­lectic de­rives its claim to a great­er ob­jectiv­ity in com­par­is­on with clas­sic­al eco­nom­ists pre­cisely from the fact that it de­fet­ish­izes the world of com­mod­it­ies; that is, it re­veals the sub­ject­ive me­di­ations of that world.

Where­as by “ideo­logy” Marx meant primar­ily the realm of phe­nom­ena of con­scious­ness as split off from prax­is, in today’s so­ci­ety the ri­gid dif­fer­en­ti­ation between eco­nom­ic and noneco­nom­ic factors has be­come ques­tion­able. Today the ap­par­at­us, which, des­pite its cent­ri­fu­gal tend­en­cies, func­tions more and more smoothly, is already ideo­lo­gic­al. It is this ap­par­at­us that has not only shrunken hu­man con­scious­ness, even the un­con­scious, down to its mere mir­ror im­age, but also has at­rophied its gen­er­al modes of be­ha­vi­or, primar­ily in the area of the con­sumer. The ana­lys­is of that area38 should not be left to op­er­a­tion­al so­cial be­ha­vi­or­ism. Henri Le­fe­b­vre and Con­tem­por­ary In­ter­pret­a­tions of Marx For Le­fe­b­vre it is a sec­tion of a com­pre­hens­ive “the­ory of every­day life”39 that at­tempts to en­rich Marx­ism (fre­quently sub­jec­ted to eco­nom­ist­ic sim­pli­fic­a­tions) with a pre­vi­ously neg­lected so­ci­olo­gic­al di­men­sion.

We now turn to Le­fe­b­vre’s ex­tens­ive study of the concept of ali­en­a­tion, which made him fam­ous to a de­gree matched by scarcely an­oth­er philo­soph­er. From what has been said of his use of the term “an­thro­po­logy,” it should be clear that for him (as little as for Marx), there is no ques­tion of ri­gidly fix­ing in a few for­mu­lae the re­la­tion­ship between so­ci­ety, the in­di­vidu­al and nature. Thus, ali­en­a­tion must be re­defined ac­cord­ing to the his­tor­ic­al con­stel­la­tion in which those ele­ments in­ter­act; namely from the point of view of its “Auf­he­bung.”

Le­fe­b­vre’s trans­ition to so­cial­ism re­capit­u­lated the stages of Marx’s ‘‘self-un­der­stand­ing” to the ex­tent that his cat­egor­ies, like those of Marx, be­come pro­gress­ively more con­crete. Le­fe­b­vre’s in­de­pend­ent de­vel­op­ment in­to a Marx­ist the­or­eti­cian began with his study of the 1844 Eco­nom­ic and Philo­soph­ic­al Manuscripts, dis­covered in 1931, which in spite of their ab­stract­ness already had sub­stan­tially more con­tent than the then “of­fi­cial” ma­ter­i­al­ist on­to­logy. His study of the Marx of the Par­is peri­od found ex­pres­sion in what is cer­tainly Le­fe­b­vre’s most im­port­ant book from the thirties: Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism, writ­ten in 1934-1935, pub­lished in 1938.

The book had to have been re­jec­ted with­in the Party, if only be­cause it ap­peared at the same time as the His­tory of the Com­mun­ist Party in the So­viet Uni­on, which con­tained the chapter writ­ten by Stal­in, “On Dia­lect­ic­al and His­tor­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism.” Dur­ing the peri­od of Stal­in’s rule, this was clearly an oblig­a­tory text and, cor­res­pond­ingly, was quoted of­ten. Where­as for Marx, his­tor­ic­al and dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism (though he nev­er used the ex­pres­sions) had an identic­al con­tent, and where­as he al­ways ob­jec­ted to the “ab­stract ma­ter­i­al­ism of the nat­ur­al sci­ences… which ex­cludes the his­tor­ic­al pro­cess,”41 with Stal­in the the­ory (de­graded to a “world­view”) was dog­mat­ic­ally di­vided in­to dia­lect­ic­al and his­tor­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism, the lat­ter be­ing simply a spe­cial case of the former, which had to do with the most gen­er­al laws gov­ern­ing the de­vel­op­ment of mat­ter. Nature and his­tory are both frozen in­to things in them­selves: the con­stitutive role of hu­man prax­is for the chan­ging “ob­jectiv­ity” (and, thus, the corner­stone of Marxi­an dia­lectic) re­mained un­com­pre­hen­ded.

It is un­der­stand­able that Le­fe­b­vre’s book, which ex­pli­citly spelled out this last point and only gran­ted valid­ity to that ob­jectiv­ity whose char­ac­ter as product is per­ceived clearly, had come in­to con­flict with a doc­trine that in­vokes an im­me­di­acy un­pen­et­rated with re­flec­tion, yet which, non­ethe­less, still boasts of it­self as be­ing sci­entif­ic. At a point when the Party glor­i­fied the sev­en miser­able “ba­sic char­ac­ter­ist­ics” of the dia­lectic and of ma­ter­i­al­ism, which Stal­in enu­mer­ated like a cata­logue, as the high point of Marx­ist thought, such a view had to sow con­fu­sion since it des­troyed the “clar­ity” that had been at­tained by the cata­logers.

In Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism, Le­fe­b­vre fol­lows an em­in­ently philo­soph­ic­al in­ten­tion.42 In the face of the in­sti­tu­tion­al­ized sim­pli­fic­a­tions of the the­ory in­tro­duced by Sta­lin­ism and of its ant­ag­on­ism to hu­man­ity, he stresses the crit­ic­al, hu­man­ist­ic im­pulse of the the­ory. The fact that his start­ing point is the 1844 Manuscripts does not at all im­ply a de­valu­ation of the eco­nom­ic prob­lem­at­ic, as it does in the case of those in­ter­pret­ers for whom Marx’s work falls in­to “two parts which can­not be linked in any mean­ing­ful prin­cipled way.”43 On the con­trary, Le­fe­b­vre views Marx’s de­vel­op­ment as a uni­fied pro­cess in which the theme of “ali­en­ated labor” as well as its ideo­lo­gic­al de­riv­at­ives, are handled more and more con­cretely from stage to stage; from Marx’s book against Proud­hon to the The­ory of Sur­plus Value, there are no (eco­nom­ic in the more strict sense) texts that he does not cite. The fact that he holds firmly to this uni­fied point of view should be ap­praised all the more highly since he did not have avail­able the Out­line of the Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Eco­nomy, the 1857-1858 “rough draft” [Ro­hent­wurf] for the Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Eco­nomy, which was pub­lished for the first time in Mo­scow in 1939 and 1941.44 He could not see a text nearly a thou­sand pages thick, which, in terms of the his­tory of Marx’s de­vel­op­ment, es­tab­lishes the link between the 1844 Manuscripts and the de­veloped ma­ter­i­al­ist eco­nom­ics of the middle and ma­ture Marx. The rough draft — still “philo­soph­ic­al” and already “eco­nom­ic” — is more ap­pro­pri­ate than any oth­er of Marx’s texts to place the dis­cus­sion of the re­la­tion­ship of Marx­ism to Hegel’s philo­sophy on a broad­er foot­ing, since Marx him­self, in his fore­words and post­faces, of­ten ex­presses him­self un­clearly and gives only sparse res­ults on this score. It also speaks for Le­fe­b­vre that he saw that with the pre­par­at­ory work to the 1859 Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Eco­nomy, Marx began a second, far more pos­it­ive ap­proach to Hegel. The dia­lect­ic­al meth­od is ne­ces­sary to really grasp as a sys­tem the struc­tur­al re­la­tion­ships between the cat­egor­ies that bour­geois eco­nom­ists have presen­ted merely as em­pir­ic­al res­ults, to tran­scend them crit­ic­ally.45 As Le­fe­b­vre shows, this meth­od has to de­rive the ali­en­a­tion that at first ap­pears only ab­stractly in the products and the activ­ity of the work­er from the spe­cific­ally so­cial char­ac­ter that products and activ­it­ies as­sume in cap­it­al­ism; that is, in a to­tal­ity that is just as much an ob­ject­ive struc­ture as it is a move­ment that would not ex­ist without the con­scious will and pur­pose of men. Nat­ur­ally the in­sight that through their activ­ity men con­tinu­ally bring forth just those con­di­tions to which they are sub­jec­ted at first ap­pears only to the the­or­et­ic­al con­scious­ness. In every­day prax­is, on the oth­er hand, “in­di­vidu­als are sub­sumed un­der so­cial pro­duc­tion, which ex­ists as if it were a des­tiny out­side them; but so­cial pro­duc­tion is not sub­sumed un­der the in­di­vidu­als who man­age it as their com­mon prop­erty.”46

All of Le­fe­b­vre’s work, in­clud­ing Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism, takes up the task of re­veal­ing the il­lus­ory char­ac­ter of this so­cial ob­jectiv­ity. Evolved through prac­tice, it can only be dis­solved through prac­tice. But, Le­fe­b­vre might be asked, what about the pos­sib­il­ity of the dis­sol­u­tion [Auf­he­bung] of ali­en­a­tion, of a real­iz­a­tion of the total man, if ali­en­ated con­di­tions — which Marx still pre­sup­poses in The Ger­man Ideo­logy — cease to be an “in­tol­er­able power against which men make a re­volu­tion”?47 Even un­der the con­di­tions of ef­fect­ive com­pet­i­tion, private in­terests were so­cially de­term­ined from the start and could be pur­sued only in a giv­en frame­work. And yet the gap between the in­teri­or and the ex­ter­i­or re­mained based on com­pet­i­tion, which pre­sup­posed a min­im­um of in­di­vidu­al con­sist­ency. Today, in the age of one-di­men­sion­al thought and re­la­tions (H. Mar­cuse), the re­l­at­ively spon­tan­eous pro­ced­ure of “in­tro­ject­ing” the ex­ter­i­or in­to the in­teri­or through a self that can also op­pose the ex­ter­i­or world is hardly pos­sible any longer. Men identi­fy them­selves im­me­di­ately with the so­cial whole, which tends to re­duce all op­pos­i­tion to si­lence with its op­press­ive abund­ance of goods.48 What be­comes of the mul­tiple sub­ject­ive forms of ali­en­a­tion (aes­thet­ic, psy­cho­lo­gic­al), which Le­fe­b­vre has ex­amined in all his books, and whose “pos­it­ive” — that is, crit­ic­al — side is only now com­ing to light, when so­ci­ety dir­ectly in­cor­por­ates whole sec­tors of the su­per­struc­ture in­to its polit­ic­al-eco­nom­ic pro­cess? Don’t they have to dis­ap­pear if the in­di­vidu­al’s iden­ti­fic­a­tion with the life­styles im­posed on him re­pro­duces it­self mech­an­ic­ally? What epi­stem­o­lo­gic­al value does the concept of ali­en­a­tion still pos­sess when ali­en­a­tion has ob­jec­ti­fied it­self as real­ity in such a way that it de­prives men of the pos­sib­il­ity of re­veal­ing it as, in Hegel’s term, a “dis­ap­pear­ing ap­pear­ance”? Marx’s crit­ic­al re­for­mu­la­tion of Feuerbach’s con­cep­tion of ali­en­a­tion refers to The Phe­nomen­o­logy of Spir­it, which im­plies, al­beit ideal­ist­ic­ally, that man, es­sen­tially “self-con­scious­ness,” has been cap­able of grasp­ing his own torn and shattered con­di­tion (and thus that of his world) and “with this know­ledge” has raised him­self above this frag­ment­a­tion.49 But already in Hegel, self-con­scious­ness can man­age to achieve this “only when re­volt­ing.” Though ma­ter­i­al­ist the­ory does not share the Hegel­i­an be­lief that a con­flict which has be­come con­scious is one which has been con­cretely mastered, it still pre­sup­poses that the trans­ition from the “class in it­self” to the “class for it­self” first takes place in in­di­vidu­al thought, and only then do “know­ledge” and “ac­tion” be­come one in col­lect­ive prax­is. Marx’s pre-1848 re­volu­tion­ary hu­man­ism as­sumes a fairly high (and in­creas­ing!) de­gree of in­de­pend­ence of sub­ject­ive forms of re­flec­tion from the re­la­tion­ships sup­port­ing them: the real pos­sib­il­ity of be­com­ing en­raged. The pos­sib­il­ity of re­volt is min­im­ized by the sub­sequent course of his­tory — not by the de­veloped cri­tique of polit­ic­al eco­nomy. The lat­ter’s in­sist­ence on the strict ob­jectiv­ity of the pro­cess as a whole sig­ni­fies more a qual­it­at­ively new level of cap­it­al­ism than a “sci­entif­ic” de­tour away from the needs of the in­di­vidu­al. Ni­et­z­sche un­der­scores the find­ings of Marx’s ana­lys­is of com­mod­it­ies when, in The Will to Power, he makes the sup­pos­i­tion that con­scious­ness may well be­come more and more dis­pens­able in the fu­ture and is “per­haps destined to dis­ap­pear and to make place for a full-fledged auto­mat­ism.”50 As op­posed to that no­tion, Le­fe­b­vre’s con­cep­tion of ali­en­a­tion seems harm­less, be­cause it holds all too firmly to the con­tinu­ity of the pre­requis­ites of in­di­vidu­al­ist­ic so­ci­ety, which were already be­com­ing de­bat­able in the second half of the pre­vi­ous cen­tury. He over­looks the fact that the­ory must ab­stract from in­di­vidu­als to the ex­tent that they be­come mere “per­son­i­fic­a­tions of eco­nom­ic cat­egor­ies.”51

Thus, Le­fe­b­vre is one of the few au­thors who do not erect a Chinese wall between Marx’s youth­ful and his ma­ture work, and who ex­am­ine both the “philo­soph­ic­al” motives of the eco­nom­ic writ­ings as well as the “eco­nom­ic” motives of the philo­soph­ic­al works. He rightly sees that the ap­pro­pri­ate path lead­ing to ques­tions con­cern­ing the dis­cip­line of his­tor­ic­al and dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism is to be found in the present­a­tion of the his­tory of its ori­gins.52 This in turn is not sep­ar­able from the his­tory of the sub­ject of its in­vest­ig­a­tion: bour­geois so­ci­ety, a con­cretum in which every his­tor­ic­al pro­cess is summed up. Marx, who starts from the fact that “eco­nom­ics” must first be cre­ated “as a sci­ence in the Ger­man sense of the term,”53 de­scribes his task in the fol­low­ing way: “The work in ques­tion…, is the cri­tique of eco­nom­ic cat­egor­ies, or… the crit­ic­al present­a­tion of the sys­tem of bour­geois eco­nom­ics. It is at the same time the present­a­tion of the sys­tem and through the present­a­tion the cri­tique of the sys­tem.’’54 Le­fe­b­vre’s writ­ings do take the Marxi­an de­sid­er­at­um of the “present­a­tion” of the­ory ex­tremely ser­i­ously. There are sev­er­al reas­ons why he leaves open many prob­lems when ques­tions about de­vel­op­ing the flow of the total cap­it­al of so­ci­ety ac­cord­ing to its ad­equate “concept” come up; why he hes­it­ates to ex­press the sys­tem­ic char­ac­ter of the world without re­ser­va­tions.

For one thing, he lets him­self be guided by the philo­soph­ic­al no­tion of the in­dis­sol­ubil­ity of the uni­verse in­to con­cepts that grasp it, apart from the fact that every sys­tem tends to des­troy the spe­cif­ic con­tent of the in­di­vidu­al be­ing, which is what ul­ti­mately mat­ters. For Marx, it is not primar­ily a ques­tion of the uni­verse in a meta­phys­ic­al sense, but of a uni­verse of facts that are me­di­ated through the neg­at­ive to­tal­ity of so­ci­ety. In­so­far as so­ci­ety is groun­ded in the ab­stract gen­er­al­ity of ex­change, and to that ex­tent re­sembles an ideal­ist­ic sys­tem, it re­mains linked to the nat­ur­al form of hu­man labor power and its products, that is, to qual­it­at­ively de­term­ined use value.

For an­oth­er thing, the sys­tem of eco­nom­ic cat­egor­ies Marx had in mind is by no means present in a single form in his writ­ings: if it were, a self-con­tained present­a­tion of the sys­tem would be pos­sible without dif­fi­culty. Thus, the ana­lys­is of forms of com­mod­it­ies as value, cap­it­al, and money, con­sists only in frag­ment­ary for­mu­la­tions.

Third, and lastly — and this is the most im­port­ant as­pect — un­der cur­rent his­tor­ic­al con­di­tions, which are much dif­fer­ent from those that Marx un­der­stood as cap­it­al­ism, every sys­tem­at­ic present­a­tion of the cri­tique of polit­ic­al eco­nomy must con­tain its own metac­ri­tique.

However great the ob­ject­ive dif­fi­culties in bring­ing the eco­nom­ic cri­tique to the point re­quired today, the ex­ist­ence of its ob­ject can­not be doubted. Now, as be­fore, pro­gress has the char­ac­ter of a “dens­ity” that “ex­ists” out­side man and that is as yet un­mastered. Only in this way can we ex­plain why for Le­fe­b­vre (sim­il­arly to Bloch, we may add) the crit­ic­al med­it­a­tion on sci­ence, to which Marx­ism once ima­gined to have raised it­self, re­turns to uto­pia. It is as if real­ity re­fused it­self to crit­ic­al thought to such a de­gree that it can only stand in a neg­at­ive re­la­tion to it. An his­tor­ic­ally un­am­bigu­ous me­di­ation between the bad that ex­ists and the bet­ter that is pos­sible is not present. It is not by ac­ci­dent that Le­fe­b­vre has re­course to the ro­mantic-sound­ing concept of “total man,” as it was used by the young Marx at a time when he had not yet the­or­et­ic­ally mastered the con­tent of his­tory. Today, when it ap­pears that we are no longer mas­ters of this con­tent, that concept is again ne­ces­sary in or­der not to fall in­to sheer his­tor­icism, in or­der to hold firm to the te­los of a ra­tion­ally in­stalled hu­man­ity.

Trans­lated by John Heck­man.

.
Notes


1 Henri Le­fe­b­vre, Prob­le­me des Marx­is­mus, heu­te (Frank­furt-am-Main: Suhr­kamp Ver­lag, 1965).
2 Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism, ed­ited by Gross­man (Lon­don: Cape, 1968). [Schmidt’s es­say ori­gin­ally ap­peared as an “Af­ter­word” to the Ger­man edi­tion of this work.]
3 He de­scribes its stages ex­haust­ively in the second volume of his ex­traordin­ary, part es­say­ist­ic, part lyr­ic­al, part auto­bi­o­graph­ic­al work, La som­me et le res­te (Par­is: 1959), un­der the title “L’iti­né­raire,” pp. 357-559 (Cf. also Le­fe­b­vre’s self-present­a­tion in the an­tho­logy Les phi­lo­so­phes français d’au­jourd’hui [Par­is: 1963], pp. 282-300.) A pre­lim­in­ary sum­mary is offered in Ir­ing Fetscher’s es­say, al­though it is more than a dec­ade old, „Der Marx­is­mus im Spie­gel der fran­zö­si­schen Phi­lo­soph­ie“, in: Marx­is­mus­stud­i­en, Schrif­ten der Stud­i­en­ge­meinsch­aft der Evan­gel­is­chen Aka­de­mi­en, vol. 3 (Tübingen, 1954), cf. es­pe­cially pp. 175-182. On Le­fe­b­vre’s po­s­i­tion after his ex­clu­sion from the Party, cf. my post­script to Prob­leme des Marx­is­mus, heute, op. cit., pp. 135-145. Also in­struct­ive is Gi­anni Bar­ba’s es­say, „Bib­li­o­graph­is­che Not­izen zum Werk von Henri Le­fe­b­vre“, in: Neue Kri­tik (Au­gust 1965), Heft 31: 24-28.
4 In­tro­duc­ti­on à la lec­ture de He­gel ed­ited by R. Queneau (Par­is: 1947). An abridged ver­sion ex­ists in Eng­lish: In­tro­duc­tion to the Read­ing of Hegel, ed­ited by Al­lan Bloom (N.Y.: Ba­sic Books, 1969). In ad­di­tion to Kojève, Jean Hyp­polite is es­pe­cially re­spons­ible for the re­cep­tion — me­di­ated through ex­ist­en­tial­ism — of Hegel in­to French con­scious­ness. Even Sartre’s Be­ing and Noth­ing­ness is un­think­able without Hegel’s Lo­gic. On French Hegel­ian­ism in gen­er­al, cf. Ir­ing Fetscher, „He­gel in Frank­reich“, in Ant­ares, vol. 1, no. 3 (1952).
5 Fetscher, Der Marx­is­mus im Spie­gel der fran­zö­si­schen Phi­lo­soph­ie, p. 183.
6 Kojève, In­tro­duc­tion to the Read­ing of Hegel, p 219.
7 Ibid., p. 259.
8 Kojève, He­gel Ver­such ein­er Ver­ge­gen­wär­ti­gung sei­nes Den­kens (Ger­man trans­la­tion of the above), Ed­it­or’s pre­face, p. 9.
9 Ibid., p. 201.
10 In­tro­duc­tion to Hegel, p. 41.
11 Ibid., p. 41.
12 Ibid., p. 1575.
13 This crit­ic­al char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion of Kojève in no way de­tracts from his great ser­vices in the Marx­ist re­in­ter­pret­a­tion of Hegel (es­pe­cially the Phe­nomen­o­logy of Spirit) in this cen­tury. However — and it is this point that we are cri­ti­ciz­ing — Kojève’s thought is pre­ju­diced by the fact that he un­der­stands Hegel and Marx in terms of Heide­g­ger’s Be­ing and Time, which, among oth­er things, res­ults in his fall­ing back to the po­s­i­tion of an ahis­tor­ic­al Feuerba­chi­an­ism, which Marx left early in his ca­reer. In that he isol­ates and hy­po­stat­izes cat­egor­ies like “struggle,” “war,” and “prestige,” he comes close to that which, un­der the rub­ric “polit­ic­al an­thro­po­logy,” be­longs in the European pre­his­tory of right-wing au­thor­it­ari­an thought. Hence, the ex­pres­sion “fas­cist­oid.” (Au­thor’s note for the Amer­ic­an edi­tion.)
14 Pas­cal’s re­la­tion to Jansen­ism is the sub­ject of his doc­tor­al thes­is. Later Le­fe­b­vre de­voted a two-volume study to Pas­cal which is of great meth­od­o­lo­gic­al in­terest: Pas­cal (Par­is: 1949 and 1954).
15 In 1925, dur­ing the hero­ic phase of sur­real­ism, when Bre­ton was at­tempt­ing a sort of “pop­u­lar front” between Left in­tel­lec­tu­als and or­gan­iz­a­tions friendly to the Com­mun­ists, Le­fe­b­vre — who then, along with Georges Politzer, Norbert Guter­man, Georges Fried­mann, and Pierre Morhange, be­longed to the group Philo­sophies (which was as yet by no means Marx­ist-ma­ter­i­al­ist ori­ented) — came in­to con­tact with the Cent­ra­le sur­réa­liste. A con­tact which without doubt furthered Le­fe­b­vre’s politi­ciz­a­tion and broke off only in 1929, when he fully ad­hered to Com­mun­ism with Morhange and Politzer (who in the mean­time had be­come ed­it­or of the journ­al L’Es­prit). Cf. Maurice Nadeau, His­tory of Sur­real­ism (N.Y.: Mac­mil­lan, 1965), pp. 155, 161.
16 Der Marx­is­mus im Spie­gel der fran­zö­si­schen Phi­lo­soph­ie, cf. p. 176.
17 Max Schel­er, „Die Son­der­stel­lung des Men­schen“, in Mensch und Erde (Darm­stadt: 1927), p. 246. On the ma­ter­i­al­ist cri­tique of the mod­ern in­clin­a­tion to con­sti­tute something like a “uni­fied por­tray­al of man,” see Max Horkheimer’s sem­in­al es­say, „Be­mer­kun­gen zur phi­lo­soph­is­chen An­thro­po­lo­gie“, in: Zeits­chrift für So­zi­al­for­schung, IV, Jg, Heft 1 (Par­is: 1935). p. 1-25.
18 Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Eco­nomy (Ber­lin: 1951), p. 242.
19 Ger­man Ideo­logy (N.Y.: In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers, 1947), p. 15.
20 Ibid.
21 Quoted by Fetscher, Der Marx­is­mus im Spie­gel der fran­zö­si­schen Phi­lo­soph­ie, p. 189.
22 On Le­fe­b­vre’s cri­tique of Jaspers, see Ren­con­tres in­ter­na­tio­na­les de Ge­nève, 1948 (Par­is/Neuf­châ­tel: 1949).
23 In a book which is no longer com­pletely ac­know­ledged by its au­thor, be­cause of its all-to-self-con­sciously Marx­ist ten­or, but which is non­ethe­less im­port­ant: L’ex­ist­en­ti­al­is­me (Par­is: 1946).
24 „Dif­fer­enz des Ficht­es­chen und des Schel­ling­schen Sys­tems der Phi­lo­soph­ie“, in Sämt­li­che Wer­ke, vol. 1, Glock­ner (Stut­tgart: 1958) p. 44.
25 L’ex­ist­en­ti­al­is­me, p. 20.
26 Ibid., p. 22.
27 See his stud­ies, Le na­ti­on­al­is­me cont­re les na­ti­ons (Par­is, 1937); Hit­ler au pou­voir. Bil­an de cinq an­nées de fas­cis­me en Al­le­ma­gne (Par­is: 1938); Ni­et­z­sche (Par­is, 1939), a book with a dif­fer­en­ti­ated ar­gu­ment which de­nounces both the Na­tion­al So­cial­ist’s mis­use of Ni­et­z­sche’s philo­sophy and, equally, those motives in Ni­et­z­sche’s thought which tend to­ward such a mis­use.
28 Noth­ing is more rev­el­at­ory for the bound­less dog­mat­ism of the Sta­lin­ist era than Zh­dan­ov’s po­s­i­tion in the 1947 philo­soph­ic­al dis­cus­sion, in which he dis­missed the “de­bate on Hegel” as a “re­birth of schol­asti­cism” with the words: “The prob­lem of Hegel has long been re­solved. There is no oc­ca­sion to take it up again.” In Über Kunst und Wis­sen­schaft (Ber­lin: 1951), p. 104.
29 La somme et le reste, vol. 1, p. 87.
30 Ibid.
31 „Kri­tik der He­geis­chen Recht­s­phi­lo­soph­ie“, in Marx/En­gels, Die hei­li­ge Fam­ilie (Ber­lin: 1955), p. 11.
32 Marx, „Kri­tik der He­geis­chen Dia­lek­tik und Phi­lo­soph­ie über­haupt“, in Ibid., p. 80.
33 Even here a dia­lectic struc­ture can­not be ascribed to it en bloc. See Al­fred Schmidt, „Zum Ver­hält­nis von Ge­schich­te und Na­tur im dia­lekt­ischen Ma­ter­i­al­is­mus“, in Ex­ist­en­ti­al­is­mus und Marx­is­mus (Frank­furt-am-Main: Suhr­kamp Ver­lag, 1965), pp. 103-155.
34 Ernst Bloch may ap­plaud En­gels’ re­cog­ni­tion of the dia­lectic of nature, but the concept of nature and mat­ter de­veloped in Das Prin­zip Hoffnung is not so much a re­fine­ment of En­gels, but something much dif­fer­ent: a mys­tic­al-tele­olo­gic­al cos­mo­logy.
35 Sartre’s astound­ing turn­ing-point in Cri­ti­que de la rais­on dia­lec­tique (Par­is: 1960), owes ex­traordin­ar­ily much to Le­fe­b­vre. When Sartre grasps the cat­egor­ies of his “phe­nomen­o­lo­gic­al on­to­logy” con­cretely and his­tor­ic­ally, he ex­plodes them He is con­cerned with ground­ing “Marx­ist know­ledge,” in op­pos­i­tion to Hegel’s ab­so­lute know­ledge, in a “his­tor­ic­al and struc­tur­al an­thro­po­logy” (cf. p. 108), for which “hu­man ex­ist­ence” (now viewed through its strict eco­nom­ic de­term­in­a­tion) is in­sep­ar­ably linked with the “un­der­stand­ing of the hu­man.”
36 The Ger­man Ideo­logy, p. 14.
37 Here he refers to Len­in, who in his 1894 po­lem­ic against the “pop­u­lists” already stressed that his­tor­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism con­sti­tutes not only the pre­con­di­tions of a crit­ic­al eco­nom­ics, but also of so­ci­ology. Cf. Werke, vol. 1 (Ber­lin: 1963), pp. 129-131.
38 It is avail­able in a highly ad­vanced form in the stud­ies of Ad­orno, Horkheimer, and Mar­cuse, who have furthered crit­ic­al and also psy­cho­ana­lyt­ic­al in­sights. They have at­temp­ted to sat­is­fy the de­mands of a “dia­lect­ic­al an­thro­po­logy” by mak­ing the so­ci­ety whole, in which everything in­di­vidu­al is im­prisoned, trans­par­ent even with­in the most private ex­per­i­ence.
39 It is based on the concept of ali­en­a­tion de­veloped by Le­fe­b­vre in the thirties and it is presen­ted in the work Cri­ti­que de la vie quo­ti­di­en­ne (Par­is: 1947). The second edi­tion, of which two volumes have ap­peared so far (Par­is: 1958 and 1962), is more im­port­ant meth­od­o­lo­gic­ally.
40 This had been pre­ceded by a series of im­port­ant pub­lic­a­tions, writ­ten in col­lab­or­a­tion with N. Guter­man. Le­fe­b­vre pub­lished the first trans­la­tion of the 1844 Manuscripts in the peri­od­ic­al Av­ant-Poste in 1933. In 1934, the in­tro­duc­tion to the Mor­ceaux chois­is de Karl Marx con­tained the ele­ments of a the­ory of con­scious­ness that tried to go bey­ond the sum­mary thes­is that con­scious­ness is a “re­flex” of be­ing. This the­ory was more closely ar­gued, es­pe­cially with ref­er­ence to the situ­ation of the Pop­u­lar Front at that time, in the 1936 book, La con­sci­ence mys­ti­fiée. In the same year as Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism, there ap­peared the Mor­ceaux chois­is de Hegel and a text which had been com­pletely un­known in France un­til then, Ca­hiers de Lé­nine sur la dia­lec­tique de He­gel. This last text had a long in­tro­duc­tion in which Le­fe­b­vre — in op­pos­i­tion to or­tho­doxy — called at­ten­tion to the ob­ject­ive mean­ing of Hegel­i­an philo­sophy for Marx­ism and, in par­tic­u­lar, at­temp­ted to show that a con­cep­tion of Len­in cen­ter­ing on Ma­ter­i­al­ism and Em­pirio-Cri­ti­cism, of 1908, is un­re­li­able. Both pub­lic­a­tions found al­most no echo in the Party. In 1940, the Ca­hiers as well as Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism were placed on the Otto list of books for­bid­den and to be des­troyed by the Ger­man oc­cu­pa­tion au­thor­ity.
41 Das Ka­pit­al, vol. 1 (Ber­lin: 1955), p. 389.
42 In many re­spects he sees the prob­lem “Marx­ism and philo­sophy” dif­fer­ently today. Al­though in the thirties he had already dis­puted the view that dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism was a philo­sophy in the tra­di­tion­al sense, that is, a meta­phys­ic­al sys­tem, he still held firm to the view that it is still a philo­sophy: one which is free from the lim­its of pre­vi­ous philo­sophies. The Marx­ist idea of the “Auf­he­bung” of philo­sophy did not seem to of­fer any spe­cial prob­lem. In view of the fact that the “re­vo­lu­tion­iz­ing prax­is’’ in­to which philo­sophy was sup­posed to be dis­solved, nev­er oc­curred, Le­fe­b­vre today sees him­self forced to pose anew the ques­tion of the mean­ing of philo­sophy. In the ap­par­ent fail­ure of Sta­lin­ized Marx­ism, he thus no longer sees merely a de­vi­ation from au­then­t­ic “Marx­ist philo­sophy.” That concept it­self has in the mean­time be­come sus­pect to him. The crisis of Marx­ism is symp­to­mat­ic of a crisis of philo­sophy in gen­er­al. It should be re­flec­ted on by means of a “meta­ph­ilo­sophy.”
43 Be­gin­nings of it are found in La som­me et le res­te, vol. I, pp. 48 and 68; es­pe­cially in parts VI and VII of the second volume, “What Is the philo­soph­er?” and “Is There a Philo­sophy?” cf. pp. 659-761. Cf. also the lar­ger book which has ap­peared in the mean­time, Me­ta­ph­ilo­soph­ie (Par­is: 1965).
44 Ralf Dahren­dorf, Marx in Per­spekt­iv (Han­nov­er: 1952), p. 165. 44. Since pub­lished in a single volume by Di­etz, Ber­lin, 1953. [Known bet­ter in Eng­lish as the Grund­ris­se — Ed.].
45 Caught as he was in the then oblig­a­tory, yet ob­ject­ively sense­less, di­vi­sion of Marx­ism in­to his­tor­ic­al and dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism, Le­fe­b­vre sees the ori­gins of the lat­ter only at this point. The gen­er­al de­vel­op­ment of Marx and En­gels up to Poverty of Philo­sophy (1847) is sup­posed to be one to­ward “his­tor­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism” and to con­sist in a prin­cipled re­jec­tion of the Hegel­i­an dia­lectic. A thes­is which Le­fe­b­vre’s book, however much its struc­ture was de­term­ined by it, re­futes.
46 Marx, Grund­ris­se der Kri­tik der po­lit­ischen Öko­no­mie, p. 76.
47 The Ger­man Ideo­logy, p. 24.
48 Cf. Her­bert Mar­cuse, One-Di­men­sion­al Man (Bo­ston: Beacon Press, 1964), p. 9ff.
49 Phe­nomen­o­logy of Spir­it, p. 548.
50 WW, vol. 16 (Leipzig: 1922), Aph. 523.
51 Marx, Das Kapit­al, vol. 1, p. 8.
52 A pro­ced­ure he uses not only in Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism, but also in the two im­port­ant books Pour connaître la pensée de Karl Marx (Par­is: 1948), and Pour connaître la pensée de Lénine (Par­is: 1957).
53 Marx to Las­salle, Let­ter of Novem­ber 12, 1858, in Marx/En­gels, Werke, Vol. 29 (Ber­lin: 1963), p. 567.
54 Marx to Las­salle, Let­ter of Feb­ru­ary 22, 1858, in ibid., p. 550.



Resources on communization

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“Com­mun­iz­a­tion” is a the­or­et­ic­al cur­rent that emerged from the French ul­traleft after 1968. Gilles Dauvé is usu­ally cred­ited with coin­ing the term ac­cord­ing to its con­tem­por­ary use in his 1972 es­say on “Cap­it­al­ism and Com­mun­ism” (though in­ter­est­ingly, a cog­nate ap­peared in Eng­lish as early as 1849 in the journ­al of the Brit­ish Owen­ite Good­wyn Barmby, The Pro­methean). Later in that dec­ade, the ed­it­or­i­al col­lect­ive Théo­rie Com­mu­niste ex­pan­ded on the no­tion in at­tempt­ing to the­or­ize “com­mun­ism in the present tense.” It be­came the linch­pin of their more pro­cess-ori­ented vis­ion of how to tran­scend cap­it­al­ism. Rather than pos­it­ing com­mun­ism as some sort of end-goal or a fi­nal state to be achieved after an in­def­in­ite peri­od of trans­ition, com­mun­iz­a­tion un­der­stands it­self as an on­go­ing state of move­ment or flux. Or, as Léon de Mat­tis ex­plains, com­mun­iz­a­tion in­volves “the over­com­ing of all ex­ist­ing con­di­tions can only come from a phase of in­tense and in­sur­rec­tion­ist struggle dur­ing which the forms of struggle and the forms of fu­ture life will take flesh in one and the same pro­cess.”

A num­ber of art­icles by Gilles Dauvé, Karl Nes­ic, Bruno As­tari­an, and oth­er mem­bers of the group Troploin have been trans­lated in­to Eng­lish, along with pieces by Ro­land Si­mon, Bern­ard Ly­on, Léon de Mat­tis, and oth­er mem­bers of the groups Blau­machen or Théo­rie Com­mu­niste. Per­haps the best work on com­mun­iz­a­tion to ap­pear in Eng­lish to date, however, is the ori­gin­al ma­ter­i­al put out by End­notes, which formed in 2008 after a po­lem­ic between Brit­ish pub­lic­a­tion Auf­heben and Théo­rie Com­mu­niste. Moreover, the transat­lantic peri­od­ic­al Sic then co­alesced in 2011, pub­lish­ing its second and fi­nal is­sue in 2014. (The journ­al has since be­come de­funct, re­portedly as the res­ult of dis­agree­ments over the overly “aca­dem­ic” in­terest in the the­ory dis­played by the Amer­ic­an wing com­pared with fo­gies meet­ing in forests back in France. Not to men­tion the shit­storm that en­sued once it was dis­covered that Wo­land, one of Sic’s con­trib­ut­ors, had be­come a high-level func­tion­ary for Syr­iza in Greece. Dia­lect­ic­al De­lin­quents first blogged about it back in April of 2015, eli­cit­ing a series of re­sponses and re­crim­in­a­tions).

You can down­load full-text PD­Fs of the fol­low­ing com­mun­iz­a­tion texts by click­ing be­low:

Miscellaneous
.

  1. Gilles Dauvé and François Mar­tin, The Ec­lipse and Ree­m­er­gence of the Com­mun­ist Move­ment (1997, 2015)
  2. Gilles Dauvé, A Con­tri­bu­tion to the Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Autonomy (2008)
  3. Ben­jamin Noys, ed., Com­mun­iz­a­tion and Its Dis­con­tents (2011)
  4. Bruno As­tari­an, Gilles Dauvé, Jean Bar­rot, Everything Must Go! The Ab­ol­i­tion of Value (2016)

End­notes
.

  1. End­notes 1: Pre­lim­in­ary Ma­ter­i­als for a Bal­ance Sheet of the Twen­ti­eth Cen­tury (Oc­to­ber 2008)
  2. End­notes 2: Misery and the Value-Form (April 2010)
  3. End­notes 3: Gender, Race, Class, and Oth­er Mis­for­tunes (Septem­ber 2013)
  4. End­notes 4: Unity in Sep­ar­a­tion (Decem­ber 2015)

Sic
.

  1. Sic: In­ter­na­tion­al Journ­al for Com­mun­iz­a­tion, Volume 1 (Novem­ber 2011)
  2. Sic: In­ter­na­tion­al Journ­al for Com­mun­iz­a­tion, Volume 2 (Janu­ary 2014)

Chuǎng
.

  1. Chung 1: Dead Generations (2015)

I have nu­mer­ous ob­jec­tions to the vari­ous strands of com­mun­iz­a­tion the­ory, though I find the prob­lems it’s raised to be im­port­ant. These may be briefly enu­mer­ated.

First of all, I am not con­vinced that the no­tion of a “trans­ition­al peri­od” is so prob­lem­at­ic that it must be done away with al­to­geth­er. Marx main­tained in his “Cri­tique of the Gotha Pro­gram” (1875) that “between cap­it­al­ist and com­mun­ist so­ci­ety lies the peri­od of the re­volu­tion­ary trans­form­a­tion of the one in­to the oth­er. Cor­res­pond­ing to this is also a polit­ic­al trans­ition peri­od in which the state can be noth­ing but the re­volu­tion­ary dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at.” Seizure of state power, wheth­er first “smashed” or left re­l­at­ively in­tact, is ana­thema to the com­mun­izers. En­gels’ quip about the ex­iled Blan­quist com­munards also comes to mind: “These thirty-three are com­mun­ists be­cause they ima­gine that, as soon as they have only the good will to jump over in­ter­me­di­ate sta­tions and com­prom­ises, everything is as­sured, and if, as they firmly be­lieve, it ‘be­gins’ in a day or two, and they take the helm, ‘com­mun­ism will be in­tro­duced’ the day after to­mor­row. And they are not com­mun­ists if this can­not be done im­me­di­ately. What child­ish naïveté to ad­vance im­pa­tience as a con­vin­cing the­or­et­ic­al ar­gu­ment!”

Second, I do not ac­cept the premise, ad­vanced by both End­notes and Théo­rie Com­mu­niste, that “pro­gram­mat­ism” is dead and gone. “Pro­gram­mat­ism” broadly refers to the era of work­ing-class polit­ic­al pro­grams, so­cial­ist parties and syn­dic­al­ist uni­ons, in which in­di­vidu­als’ status as pro­du­cers was af­firmed. All claims to polit­ic­al le­git­im­acy were thought to flow from this fact. Though they dif­fer some­what on the dates that bookend this peri­od­iz­a­tion, the two journ­als share the same gen­er­al con­clu­sion that this era is at an end. Joshua Clover and Aaron Ben­anav summed it up suc­cinctly in a 2014 art­icle, “Can Dia­lectics Break BRICs?”:

The col­lect­ive ex­per­i­ence of work and life that gave rise to the van­guard party dur­ing the era of in­dus­tri­al­iz­a­tion has passed away with in­dus­tri­al­iz­a­tion it­self. We re­cog­nize as ma­ter­i­al­ists that the cap­it­al-labor re­la­tion that made such a party ef­fect­ive — not only as idea but as real­ity — is no longer op­er­at­ive. A changed cap­it­al-labor re­la­tion will give rise to new forms of or­gan­iz­a­tion. We should not cri­ti­cize present-day struggles in the name of ideal­ized re­con­struc­tions from the past. Rather, we should de­scribe the com­mun­ist po­ten­tial that presents it­self im­man­ently in the lim­its con­fron­ted by today’s struggles.

Richard Ru­bin of Platy­pus raised some points back in 2013 with which I still for the most part agree. While End­notes’ ap­prais­al of the polit­ic­al im­pot­ence of the Left in the present is sim­il­ar to that of the Platy­pus, Ben­anav con­ten­ded that the lat­ter’s ana­lys­is did not pen­et­rate down to the hard un­der­ly­ing real­it­ies that ex­plain why this is the case. By re­main­ing at the level of ideas, fo­cus­ing on ideo­lo­gic­al re­gres­sions and the dia­lectics of de­feat, Platy­pus failed to see the changed so­cioeco­nom­ic con­di­tions that lie be­neath. “Fail­ing to see this ma­ter­i­al basis for the death of the Left, Platy­pus is help­less to de­scribe the char­ac­ter of class struggle over the last dec­ade and a half,” Ben­anav ar­gued. “Their per­spect­ive com­pletely cov­ers over the real gap that sep­ar­ates the present from the past. Work­ers are only able to find a com­mon in­terest di­luted through the ex­tra­ver­sion of class be­long­ing in­to some oth­er weakened form of an af­firm­able share of ex­ist­ence.” Even­tu­ally, Ru­bin countered. “It is true in a cer­tain sense that the con­di­tions for re­volu­tion emerge from struggle, but there are many dif­fer­ent forms of struggle. People do not al­ways come to the con­clu­sion that they should struggle, and even then they of­ten struggle in un­pro­pi­tious ways.”

Un­like End­notes, I be­lieve the so­cial­ist work­ers’ move­ment re­mains the un­sur­pass­able ho­ri­zon through which alone cap­it­al­ism can be over­come. If these older mod­al­it­ies of struggle no longer have any real pur­chase on the world, then it is not just a par­tic­u­lar form of polit­ics that has seen its last but rather polit­ics it­self. Len­in once re­marked that polit­ics prop­er only be­gins once you start count­ing in the mil­lions: “As long as it was (and inas­much as it still is) a ques­tion of win­ning the pro­let­ari­at’s van­guard over to the side of com­mun­ism, pri­or­ity went and still goes to pro­pa­ganda work; even pro­pa­ganda circles, with all their pa­ro­chi­al lim­it­a­tions, are use­ful un­der these con­di­tions, and pro­duce good res­ults. But when it is a ques­tion of prac­tic­al ac­tion by the masses, of the dis­pos­i­tion, if one may so put it, of vast armies, of the align­ment of all the class forces in a giv­en so­ci­ety for the fi­nal and de­cis­ive battle, then pro­pa­gand­ist meth­ods alone, the mere re­pe­ti­tion of the truths of ‘pure’ com­mun­ism, are of no avail. In these cir­cum­stances, one must not count in thou­sands, like the pro­pa­gand­ist be­long­ing to a small group that has not yet giv­en lead­er­ship to the masses; in these cir­cum­stances one must count in mil­lions and tens of mil­lions.”

Some fur­ther ob­jec­tions with which I gen­er­ally con­cur were made by Don­ald Par­kin­son already more than a year ago. Oth­er points of con­ten­tion are fleshed out in the piece be­low, by some Ger­man com­rades in Kos­mo­prolet. End­notes trans­lated this piece last year, to vent­ri­lo­quize their “frus­tra­tion with the way [com­mun­iz­a­tion] has be­come as­so­ci­ated with a new the­or­et­ic­al brand and/or rad­ic­al iden­tity.” It’s a great piece.

tullio-crali-aerial-machine-1980

On communization and its theorists

Kosmoprolet
January 2016
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This text was ori­gin­ally pub­lished in the Friends’ journ­al Kos­mo­prolet as a re­sponse to Théo­rie Com­mu­niste’s cri­tique of the Friends’ 28 Theses on Class So­ci­ety. A trans­la­tion of Théo­rie Com­mu­niste’s ori­gin­al cri­tique can be found here.

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In the 1970s, some­body in France in­ven­ted the word com­mun­iz­a­tion in or­der to ex­press a fairly simple, but im­port­ant idea: the pro­let­ari­an re­volu­tion is not the self-real­iz­a­tion of the pro­let­ari­at, but its self-ab­ol­i­tion. This idea is noth­ing new, for it can already be found in a po­lem­ic­al work from 1845.1 However, it nev­er played a strong role in the labor move­ment, sig­ni­fy­ing at best the ho­ri­zon of a dis­tant fu­ture. Rather, the con­quest of polit­ic­al power by the pro­let­ari­at topped the agenda. In the sub­sequent trans­ition­al so­cial­ist so­ci­ety, which was still to be dom­in­ated by com­mod­ity pro­duc­tion and the strict meas­ure­ment of the in­di­vidu­al share of so­cial wealth, the pro­let­ari­at would lay the found­a­tions for com­mun­ism as a class­less so­ci­ety in which there would be no more wage sys­tem and, in­deed, no more pro­let­ari­at. The term com­mun­iz­a­tion ex­presses the ob­sol­es­cence of this no­tion. Ac­cord­ing to the pro­ponents of com­mun­iz­a­tion, com­mun­ism is not a dis­tant goal, but the move­ment it­self which elim­in­ates all ex­change re­la­tions as well as the state. As is ap­par­ent from our 28 Theses on Class So­ci­ety, we share this per­spect­ive, al­though we do so, ac­cord­ing to a French the­ory circle, in a fash­ion that is halfhearted, and ul­ti­mately bound to the “af­firm­a­tion of the pro­let­ari­at.”2 It is this we seek to ex­am­ine be­low.

What is char­ac­ter­ist­ic for the journ­al Théo­rie Com­mu­niste — which emerged in the 1970s from the coun­cil com­mun­ist mi­lieu and for some time has been the sub­ject of heated de­bate among circles scattered across the globe — is that they seek to his­tor­icize the per­spect­ive of com­mun­iz­a­tion. For Théo­rie Com­mu­niste, it was not only the he­ge­mon­ic cur­rents of the old labor move­ment — West­ern Re­form­ism and Bolshev­ism — but also the rad­ic­al left dis­sid­ents up to the 1970s that re­lied on the no­tion of a pos­it­ive work­ers’ iden­tity. What unites these cur­rents and their un­der­stand­ing of com­mun­ism, ac­cord­ing to Théo­rie Com­mu­niste, is that they pos­ited labor as the de­fin­ing prin­ciple of the new so­ci­ety. Im­port­antly, Théo­rie Com­mu­niste also in­cludes self-or­gan­iz­a­tion and work­ers’ autonomy as propag­ated by rad­ic­als in the past with­in this per­spect­ive, la­beling it all “pro­gram­mat­ism.” This is how the Situ­ation­ist In­ter­na­tion­al comes to be seen as a phe­nomen­on of his­tor­ic­al trans­ition: while go­ing bey­ond the con­straints of “pro­gram­mat­ism” by pro­mot­ing the self-ab­ol­i­tion of the pro­let­ari­at, the S.I. was at the same time bound to an epoch in de­cline by seek­ing to ac­com­plish this self-ab­ol­i­tion by means of work­ers’ coun­cils. It was only with the re­struc­tur­ing of the 1970s — roughly everything that is today de­scribed as pre­car­ity, Post-Ford­ism, neo­lib­er­al­ism, glob­al­iz­a­tion, and which Théo­rie Com­mu­niste des­ig­nates as the “second phase of the real sub­sump­tion” — that this phase of the class con­tra­dic­tion comes to an end. Only with the dis­ap­pear­ance of any pos­it­ive work­er iden­tity, the real ab­ol­i­tion of the cap­it­al re­la­tion be­comes con­ceiv­able. Théo­rie Com­mu­niste does not claim that earli­er re­volu­tion­ar­ies made “mis­takes”; rather they ar­gue that earli­er ideas of re­volu­tion and com­mun­ism were ad­equate for the shape of the con­tra­dic­tion between cap­it­al and the pro­let­ari­at at the time, but are no longer ad­equate today. Today, the ac­cu­mu­la­tion of cap­it­al and the re­pro­duc­tion of the work­ing class are grow­ing apart; the pro­let­ari­an class no longer finds con­firm­a­tion in cap­it­al­ist de­vel­op­ment; from its struggles it be­comes evid­ent that it is noth­ing out­side of the cap­it­al re­la­tion; its very be­ing as a class is no longer any­thing but an ex­tern­al con­straint. For the first time, this opens up the pos­sib­il­ity of the self-ab­ol­i­tion of the pro­let­ari­at.

Friends of com­mun­iz­a­tion have been fight­ing over this his­tor­iciz­a­tion for years. The most ob­vi­ous coun­ter­pos­i­tion comes from Gilles Dauvé and Karl Nes­ic: “Of course the real­iz­a­tion of com­mun­ism de­pends on the his­tor­ic­al mo­ment, but its deep con­tent re­mains in­vari­ant in 1796 and in 2002. If the ‘nature’ of the pro­let­ari­at is to be taken as Marx sum­mar­ized it the­or­et­ic­ally, then the sub­vers­ive mo­ment in pro­let­ari­an ex­ist­ence does not de­pend on the suc­cess­ive forms which the course of cap­it­al­ist de­vel­op­ment as­sumes.”3 Dauvé and Nes­ic ac­cuse Théo­rie Com­mu­niste of de­term­in­ism; Théo­rie Com­mu­niste ac­cuses Dauvé and Nes­ic of lack­ing his­tor­ic­al per­spect­ive.4

And we too are cri­ti­cized for such a lack. It is true that in one pas­sage of the Theses, we speak about the re­volu­tion and the miser­able con­di­tions it en­countered in Rus­sia in 1917, and it is true that we write, “that class struggles could have had dif­fer­ent out­comes.” However, in­stead of spec­u­lat­ing about this out­come, we con­tin­ue: “But the view of his­tory is in­ev­it­ably con­di­tioned by its fur­ther pro­gres­sion, in which the dia­lectic of re­pres­sion and eman­cip­a­tion has not ceased.” The whole text is a plea against nos­tal­gia, which should already be evid­ent from the fact that we char­ac­ter­ize the most ad­vanced com­mun­ist blue­print of the time, namely that of the coun­cil com­mun­ists, as the “self-man­age­ment of com­mod­ity pro­duc­tion”; the ab­ol­i­tion of com­mod­ity pro­duc­tion only came in­to view around 1968, simply due to the “high­er level of cap­it­al­ist so­cial­iz­a­tion, which can dir­ectly” — without a so­cial­ist trans­ition­al phase of blood, sweat, and tears — “turn over in­to com­mun­ism.” In the same un­am­bigu­ous vein, we com­ment on Marx’s pro­gram of state power con­quest: “That’s all his­tory now.” When Théo­rie Com­mu­niste mocks our link­ing of the very Canne-Meijer whose labor vouch­ers we ob­ject to with com­mun­iz­a­tion, they over­look the fact that we em­phas­ize only a cer­tain quite mod­ern thought of Canne-Meijer’s, namely that in the struggles them­selves — and not after a suc­cess­ful con­quest of power — new so­cial re­la­tions emerge. In short, if Théo­rie Com­mu­niste reads in­to a text about the his­tor­ic­al change of class so­ci­ety and the at­tempts to over­come it, a “con­sist­ent es­sence of the re­volu­tion”; if they dis­cov­er a ro­man­ti­ciz­a­tion of work­ers’ autonomy of the 1960s and 1970s, des­pite the fact that we term it the “real move­ment of the wage-laborers,” which wanted “if not everything, then at least more wages and less work” and that their “autonomy… meant wild­cat strikes — or strik­ing with the uni­on, but without re­gard for losses”; if they rep­res­ent our leit­mot­if as the “con­tra­dic­tion between self-or­gan­iz­a­tion and sub­sti­tu­tion­ism” al­though we ourselves cri­ti­cize such an op­pos­i­tion as “a cer­tain myth­o­logy of the rad­ic­al left” — then they com­pletely miss our point.

The real dif­fer­ences lie else­where. They con­cern the concept of pro­duc­tion, the char­ac­ter of today’s class struggles, and the re­la­tion­ship between the­ory and struggles. We will try to cla­ri­fy our thoughts on this and to show why, for us, the po­s­i­tions of Théo­rie Com­mu­niste seem closely built on ob­scur­ant­ism.

On the pro­duc­tion of com­mun­ism

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Hardly a thought in Marx’s the­ory is con­sidered more ob­jec­tion­able today than that of labor as an “etern­al nat­ur­al ne­ces­sity.” Against the his­tor­ic­al back­ground of state so­cial­ism and the com­mun­ist parties in the West, in which the work­ing class was driv­en to in­creased drudgery, this idea is read as an apo­logy for the status quo: one can­not rebel against nat­ur­al ne­ces­sity. Over the last few dec­ades, there­fore, the “cri­tique of labor” in its dif­fer­ent and some­times con­flict­ing ver­sions gained sub­stan­tial ground. For the most part, however, this cri­tique goes in circles, lead­ing one to con­clude that Marx’s cri­tique of polit­ic­al eco­nomy it­self con­tains the most reas­on­able cri­tique of labor, or in oth­er words, that the ex­ist­ing form of labor it­self is its most rad­ic­al crit­ic. Marx’s sup­posedly ob­jec­tion­able for­mula is not a nat­ur­al­iz­a­tion of so­cial re­la­tions, but, on the con­trary, first makes such re­la­tions in­tel­li­gible. Marx cri­ti­cizes labor in the sense that he makes dis­tinct­ive the dual char­ac­ter of com­mod­ity-pro­du­cing labor which pos­its use-value as well as ex­change-value. He took this as the “pivot”5 of the cri­tique of polit­ic­al eco­nomy be­cause therein all the con­tra­dic­tions of the ex­ist­ing mode of pro­duc­tion ori­gin­ate in em­bryon­ic form.

The so­cial­ist labor move­ment did not tar­get the dual char­ac­ter of labor, but cam­paigned against the “con­tra­dic­tion between so­cial pro­duc­tion and private ap­pro­pri­ation.” The scan­dal from which it emerged was the glar­ing op­pos­i­tion between the work­ing poor and non-work­ing rich. If the bour­geois had scan­dal­ized the para­sit­ic feud­al gentry by de­mand­ing that wealth ought to be the fruit of labor, it was now the so­cial­ist labor move­ment that mo­bil­ized this very max­im against bour­geois so­ci­ety it­self. Its cri­ti­cism was dir­ec­ted against the cap­it­al­ists who lived off the work of oth­ers and its so­cial­ism was to real­ize the bour­geois prin­ciple of mer­it: “From each ac­cord­ing to his abil­it­ies — to each ac­cord­ing to his per­form­ance.” Des­pite the misery that the fact­ory sys­tem be­stowed upon the work­ers, large-scale in­dustry ap­peared to be a tre­mend­ous ad­vance over pre­mod­ern forms of pro­duc­tion. It was merely in the wrong hands and had to be wres­ted away from the self-serving cap­it­al­ists in or­der to be ap­plied for the com­mon good un­der the aus­pices of the state. While the labor move­ment ob­jec­ted to the con­crete shape of the labor pro­cess, it nev­er tar­geted the so­cial form of com­mod­ity-pro­du­cing labor as such; rather it was to be man­aged con­sciously by the state. In this re­spect, state so­cial­ism in the East was the le­git­im­ate child of the labor move­ment, and con­sequently their cri­tique was — as par­tic­u­larly evid­ent with­in Trot­sky­ism — aimed al­most ex­clus­ively at its polit­ic­al des­pot­ism and its fall be­hind demo­crat­ic civil liber­ties, but al­most nev­er at the nature of its eco­nomy.

The labor move­ment did not ad­voc­ate a world of labor out of en­thu­si­asm for the drudgery, but out of simple ne­ces­sity. Tech­nic­al pro­gress and the ex­ten­sion of the ob­lig­a­tion to work to all mem­bers of so­ci­ety were sup­posed to shorten the work­ing day. Left so­cial his­tor­i­ans have rightly in­sisted that class struggle and the work­ers’ move­ment — the con­duct of the work­ers and the of­fi­cial pro­grams of their or­gan­iz­a­tions — were two very dif­fer­ent an­im­als. The gap between labor lead­ers who call for in­creas­ing pro­duc­tion and work­ers who want to es­cape work wherever pos­sible can be seen from the nine­teenth cen­tury through the Span­ish Civil War up to so­cial­ist Chile un­der Sal­vador Al­lende. But so­ci­ety as a whole couldnot es­cape work, and if the work­ers were for a dif­fer­ent so­ci­ety, labor would ne­ces­sar­ily still be at its core.

This was true even for the dis­sid­ents. In its 1920 pro­gram, the ul­tra-left KAPD called for the “ruth­less en­force­ment of the ob­lig­a­tion to work,”6 and while state so­cial­ism praised its own “con­scious ap­plic­a­tion of the law of value,” the coun­cil com­mun­ists tried to prove in an ex­tens­ive writ­ten ac­count that the so­cially-ne­ces­sary labor time which the law of value is based upon could also be cal­cu­lated by the as­so­ci­ated pro­du­cers them­selves in or­der to over­come mar­ket re­la­tions. “In its es­sence, there­fore, the so­cial re­volu­tion is noth­ing more than the in­tro­duc­tion of the labor-hour as the unit meas­ure reg­u­lat­ing and con­trolling the whole of eco­nom­ic life. It serves as the meas­ure in pro­duc­tion and, sim­ul­tan­eously, the right of the pro­du­cers to their share in the so­cial product is meas­ured through its in­stru­ment­al­ity.”7 This last point was par­tic­u­larly im­port­ant to the au­thors. Even after May ’68, French ul­tra-left­ists presen­ted such tech­niques of meas­ure­ment as a prin­ciple of the fu­ture.8

It is sig­ni­fic­ant that Paul Mat­tick, former mem­ber of the KAPD, re­ferred to this idea as “weak” forty years later in an in­tro­duc­tion to the pub­lic­a­tion. The coun­cil com­mun­ists of the 1930s out­lined “a phase of so­cial­ist de­vel­op­ment with­in which the prin­ciple of the ex­change of equi­val­ents still pre­vails.” Mat­tick coun­ters this raw so­cial­ist egal­it­ari­an­ism with Marx: “The ab­ol­i­tion of cal­cu­la­tion based on labor time for dis­tri­bu­tion,” res­ults in “the real­iz­a­tion of the com­mun­ist prin­ciple: ‘From each ac­cord­ing to his abil­it­ies, to each ac­cord­ing to his needs.’ In the ad­vanced cap­it­al­ist coun­tries…the so­cial forces of pro­duc­tion are suf­fi­ciently de­veloped to pro­duce means of con­sump­tion in over­abund­ance. More than half of all cap­it­al­ist pro­duc­tion as well as the un­pro­duct­ive activ­it­ies as­so­ci­ated with it (totally dis­reg­ard­ing the pro­duct­ive forces which are not ex­ploited) surely have noth­ing to do with real hu­man con­sump­tion, but only make sense in the ir­ra­tion­al eco­nomy of cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety. It is clear, then, that un­der the con­di­tions of a com­mun­ist eco­nomy, so many con­sump­tion goods could be pro­duced that any cal­cu­la­tion of their in­di­vidu­al shares of av­er­age so­cially ne­ces­sary labor time would be su­per­flu­ous.”9

As with every at­tempt at his­tor­ic­al peri­od­iz­a­tion, in this case no pre­cise date can be giv­en for when that point had been reached. However, look­ing back at over two hun­dred years of com­mun­ist the­ory, it can be stated that what Marx, start­ing from the his­tor­ic­al tend­en­cies of the cap­it­al­ist mode of pro­duc­tion “in its ideal av­er­age,” de­scribed as a dis­tant fu­ture, ap­peared to be a tan­gible pos­sib­il­ity some­time after the Second World War: the ab­ol­i­tion of com­mod­ity pro­duc­tion and a com­plete trans­form­a­tion of the ma­ter­i­al life pro­cess of so­ci­ety. Loren Gold­ner de­scribed this peri­od as the “Grundrisse phase of cap­it­al­ism,” in which sci­entif­ic work that brings with it auto­ma­tion, among oth­er things, is dir­ectly ap­pro­pri­ated by cap­it­al.10 Against this back­ground, Her­bert Mar­cuse in 1967 spec­u­lated about wheth­er Marx’s dis­tinc­tion between the realm of free­dom and the realm of ne­ces­sity was ana­chron­ist­ic, if the op­por­tun­ity was not giv­en to “let the realm of free­dom ap­pear with­in the realm of ne­ces­sity — in labor and not only bey­ond ne­ces­sary labor.” The tend­ency an­ti­cip­ated in the Grundrisse to re­duce phys­ic­al labor to the min­im­um en­abled a free so­ci­ety in which “play, with the po­ten­ti­al­it­ies of hu­man and non­hu­man nature, would be­come the con­tent of so­cial labor.” By con­tem­plat­ing “the con­ver­gence of tech­no­logy and art and the con­ver­gence of work and play,” Mar­cuse poin­ted to a tra­di­tion of the cri­tique of labor that goes back to Ger­man Ideal­ism and to Charles Four­i­er and Paul La­far­gue. Giv­en the state of the de­vel­op­ment of the pro­duct­ive forces at that time, however, it comes as no sur­prise that this cri­tique fell largely on deaf ears among the labor move­ment and was con­fined to the role of its uto­pi­an, ideal­ist­ic ac­com­pa­ny­ing mu­sic well in­to the twen­ti­eth cen­tury. As a ma­ter­i­al­ist, Mar­cuse re­jec­ted “a ro­mantic re­gres­sion be­hind tech­no­logy.” Rather, he ar­gues that “the po­ten­tial lib­er­at­ing bless­ings of tech­no­logy and in­dus­tri­al­iz­a­tion will not even be­gin to be real and vis­ible un­til cap­it­al­ist in­dus­tri­al­iz­a­tion and cap­it­al­ist tech­no­logy have been done away with.”11

The lim­it of free­dom, of play, is de­marc­ated by ex­tern­al nature, which can­not be trans­formed at will, be­cause pur­pose­ful hu­man activ­ity must ad­apt to nature as an ob­ject­ive, ex­tern­al giv­en. By call­ing labor “pro­duct­ive activ­ity,” one has only changed the name, not altered the thing it­self. Mar­cuse’s ideas are ma­ter­i­al­ist in­so­far as the pos­sib­il­ity of re­con­cili­ation between work and play, between pur­pose­ful and free activ­ity, is de­rived from noth­ing oth­er than the res­ults of the dom­in­a­tion of nature as it evolved un­der the whip of cap­it­al. He does this with great cau­tion when he main­tains, “that labor as such can­not be ab­ol­ished,” al­though it can be very dif­fer­ent from its present form, so that “the con­ver­gence of labor and play does not di­vulge too far from the pos­sib­il­it­ies.”12 When we write in the Theses that re­volu­tion would not dis­solve the realm of ne­ces­sity “in noth­ing oth­er than play and pleas­ure,” it is a re­mind­er of the lim­its that the at­tempt at such dis­sol­u­tion will re­peatedly en­counter. It is a re­cog­ni­tion of nature and the ne­ces­sity for me­di­ation with it. Thus cau­tion is war­ran­ted with re­spect to a cri­tique of labor that scan­dal­izes the fact that labor is not a pur­pose in it­self but rather relates to an ex­tern­al one.

In con­trast to the spec­u­la­tion about the re­con­cil­ab­il­ity or ir­re­con­cil­ab­il­ity between work and play in the fu­ture, the cri­tique of the so­cial form of labor is a mat­ter of the here and now. The his­tor­ic­al dis­tance to the so­cial­ist labor move­ment can also be char­ac­ter­ized in such a way that it not the “con­tra­dic­tion between so­cial pro­duc­tion and private ap­pro­pri­ation,” but the con­tra­dic­tion in com­mod­ity-pro­du­cing labor it­self — between wealth cre­ation and val­or­iz­a­tion that needs to be re­solved. Théo­rie Com­mu­niste ap­par­ently has no concept of this con­tra­dic­tion, be­cause they do not com­pre­hend the ex­ist­ing form of labor and thus the cat­egory of value. Our char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion of this form as one which is so­cially-un­so­cial is mis­un­der­stood and dis­missed as a re­prise of the “philo­soph­ic­al com­mun­ism of the 1840s”: “One must make clear that labor as a pro­du­cer of value, more pre­cisely, as val­or­iz­a­tion of cap­it­al, as well as a di­vi­sion of labor as a com­mod­ity pro­duc­tion is so­cial. This so­cial­iz­a­tion need not cor­res­pond to any ‘real so­cial­ity’ in or­der to ap­pear as con­tra­dict­ory, rather the con­tra­dic­tion lies between the classes.” To play out the con­tra­dic­tion between classes against the one in­her­ent with­in com­mod­ity-pro­du­cing labor misses the de­cis­ive point.

Classes, sur­plus labor, and ex­ploit­a­tion are an­cient. What lends the mod­ern class re­la­tion its dy­nam­ic and ex­plos­ive power is the fact that pro­let­ari­ans pro­duce wealth in a form that is con­tra­dict­ory and crisis-rid­den and thus bears the po­ten­tial to tran­scend con­tem­por­ary so­cial re­la­tions: in­creas­ing ma­ter­i­al wealth is not the same as in­creas­ing value.13 What dif­fer­en­ti­ates the mod­ern wage laborer from slaves or serfs is that she con­sist­ently risks mak­ing her­self su­per­flu­ous through her labor. These con­tra­dic­tions are present in the com­mod­ity in em­bryon­ic form and so com­mod­ity-pro­du­cing labor is only so­cial in the banal sense, in which all work, apart from the Robin­son­ades of the polit­ic­al eco­nom­ists, is so­cial. What is spe­cif­ic about it is this: “Art­icles of util­ity be­come com­mod­it­ies, only be­cause they are products of the labor of private in­di­vidu­als or groups of in­di­vidu­als who carry on their work in­de­pend­ently of each oth­er. The sum-total of the labor of all these private in­di­vidu­als forms the ag­greg­ate labor of so­ci­ety…the spe­cif­ic so­cial char­ac­ter of each pro­du­cer’s labor does not show it­self ex­cept in the act of ex­change. In oth­er words, the labor of the in­di­vidu­al as­serts it­self as a part of the labor of so­ci­ety only by means of the re­la­tions which the act of ex­change es­tab­lishes dir­ectly between the products, and in­dir­ectly, through them, between the pro­du­cers. To the lat­ter, there­fore, the re­la­tions con­nect­ing the labor of one in­di­vidu­al with that of the rest ap­pear not as dir­ect so­cial re­la­tions between in­di­vidu­als at work, but as what they really are, ma­ter­i­al re­la­tions between per­sons and so­cial re­la­tions between things.”14 Giv­en this, Théo­rie Com­mu­niste turns the mat­ter on its head when they re­ject the so­cial­iz­a­tion of labor and of the means of pro­duc­tion as the “Al­pha and Omega of the af­firm­a­tion of the pro­let­ari­at.” If the pro­let­ari­at is the class that is sep­ar­ated from the means of pro­duc­tion, re­duced to the bare sub­jectiv­ity of a labor reser­voir, only able to sur­vive by selling its liv­ing-time to cap­it­al, then its self-ab­ol­i­tion con­sists of noth­ing oth­er than tak­ing pos­ses­sion of this means of pro­duc­tion.

It seems to us that Théo­rie Com­mu­niste has aban­doned every ma­ter­i­al­ist con­cep­tion of pro­duc­tion, a move which res­ults in a strange jux­ta­pos­i­tion of ni­hil­ism and ro­man­ti­cism: ni­hil­ism vis-à-vis today’s world and ro­man­ti­cism vis-à-vis com­mun­ism. Com­mun­ism is no longer the de­term­in­ate neg­a­tion of so­ci­ety, but a total mir­acle. Théo­rie Com­mu­niste para­phrases our po­s­i­tion “that ‘ne­ces­sity’ pro­duces class so­ci­ety, and not the oth­er way around,” but finds this in­com­pre­hens­ible, as if it is a some­what ab­er­rant idea that the his­tor­ic­al ori­gin of the class di­vi­sion was the im­pulse to shift the nat­ur­al ne­ces­sity of labor onto oth­ers. This is be­cause nature has no place in Théo­rie Com­mu­niste’s think­ing. Labor is not taken as a me­di­at­or between man and nature, which al­ways takes a par­tic­u­lar so­cial form, but only as a so­cial re­la­tion: “Pro­duc­tion is presen­ted [in the 28 Theses] as a both­er­some ne­ces­sity, but still neut­ral and ob­ject­ive, per­formed by an equally neut­ral and ob­ject­ive activ­ity — labor. It is only ne­ces­sary to re­duce this curse. Yet labor presents a so­cial re­la­tion­ship, much like the forces of pro­duc­tion. The aim is not its re­duc­tion, but its ab­ol­i­tion.” That this ab­ol­i­tion, which amounts to a re­nam­ing of labor as “pro­duct­ive activ­ity” and its “be­com­ing pas­sion­ate,” is per­haps not im­me­di­ately pos­sible, is ac­know­ledged in a brief mo­ment of sobri­ety and then im­me­di­ately with­drawn: “Maybe the pro­duct­ive activ­it­ies as a whole will not be­come pas­sion­ate ‘overnight,’ but cer­tainly com­mun­ism is not con­ceiv­able as a jux­ta­pos­i­tion of two dif­fer­ent spheres. It is im­possible that in com­mun­ism some activ­it­ies con­tin­ue to be dis­pas­sion­ate, while oth­ers will have shed this char­ac­ter.” These two sen­tences con­tra­dict each oth­er in such a blatant way that they res­ult in a squar­ing of the circle. The res­ult is wish­ful think­ing and ar­bit­rary de­crees. The irony — the afore­men­tioned circle in which today’s “cri­tique of labor” moves — is that to speak of a “be­com­ing pas­sion­ate” of all “pro­duct­ive activ­it­ies” de­scribes noth­ing oth­er than a con­di­tion in which “labor has be­come not only a means of life but life’s prime want,”15 a phrase that ter­ri­fies friends of com­mun­iz­a­tion. Lan­guage games of this type, the core of today’s “cri­tique of labor,” lead straight in­to hope­less ter­min­o­lo­gic­al con­fu­sion.

As far as the spheres are con­cerned, the end of their sep­ar­a­tion fol­lows from that of wage labor. The bound­ary between the eco­nomy, a sphere sub­jec­ted to blind laws, and all oth­er spheres of life co­in­cides with the bound­ary between wage labor and leis­ure. If the pro­let­ari­ans ab­ol­ish wage labor and hence them­selves as a class, by tak­ing pos­ses­sion of the means of pro­duc­tion of their lives, the eco­nomy as a dis­tinct sphere would dis­ap­pear; sim­il­ar to the re­ab­sorp­tion of the state by so­ci­ety, of which Marx speaks some­where, one could also speak of a re­ab­sorp­tion of the eco­nomy by so­ci­ety. That is what we meant by the phrase that the realm of ne­ces­sity would not “per­sist in its cur­rent ab­stract op­pos­i­tion to a realm of free­dom emp­tied of any pos­sib­il­ity for shap­ing the world.” If Marx in a clas­sic pas­sage en­vi­sions a “short­en­ing of the work­ing day,” this is mis­lead­ing in­so­far as it im­plies the per­sist­ence of two clearly dis­tinct areas, thus al­most giv­ing the im­pres­sion that in com­mun­ism there will still be punch clocks. The weak­ness of Théo­rie Com­mu­niste and many oth­ers, it seems to us, is that they can take the op­pos­ite po­s­i­tion (for the ab­ol­i­tion of punch clocks) only based on the false prom­ise of a “be­com­ing pas­sion­ate” of all pro­duct­ive activ­it­ies and thus paint com­mun­ism in a rather na­ive or in­fant­ile man­ner as pure pleas­ure and fun, which it will cer­tainly not be. This po­s­i­tion is merely the mir­ror im­age of the no­tori­ously bour­geois ideo­logy which, out of the in­ev­it­able in­con­veni­ences of life, de­rives the in­ev­it­ab­il­ity of dom­in­a­tion and co­er­cion. Freely as­so­ci­ated in­di­vidu­als will have to deal with both­er­some ne­ces­sit­ies; how they will do so we do not know, but we are con­fid­ent that the com­mune will not fail over the ques­tion of who’s go­ing to clean the loo to­mor­row. And as long as there are both­er­some ne­ces­sit­ies to deal with, the “eco­nomy of time” (Marx) will of course re­main rel­ev­ant; it is hard to see why for ex­ample the pro­duc­tion of cof­fee cups has to be “pas­sion­ate,” in­stead of com­plet­ing it with a min­im­um ex­pendit­ure of time. The point would be to have the free­dom to or­gan­ize these things ac­cord­ing to dis­cre­tion and cor­res­pond­ing to the needs and abil­it­ies of all, though the mag­nitude of the task should not be un­der­es­tim­ated and cer­tainly re­quires plan­ning (a word which arouses sus­pi­cion of Sta­lin­ism among most com­mun­izers, though they of course can­not spe­cify how sev­er­al bil­lions of in­ter­de­pend­ent in­di­vidu­als should be able to or­gan­ize their lives without plan­ning).

On the oth­er hand, Théo­rie Com­mu­niste bans from the­ory what is not mere wish­ful think­ing, but a real con­tra­dic­tion of the present — the con­tra­dic­tion between wealth-cre­ation and val­or­iz­a­tion. The in­ab­il­ity to grasp the cap­it­al­ist mode of pro­duc­tion as a spe­cif­ic so­cial form of ap­pro­pri­ation of nature leads to the fantasy of a com­mun­ism un­burdened by ma­ter­i­al­ity: “If there is re­newed hope in the re­cog­ni­tion of ‘idle­ness,’ then it is based on the de­vel­op­ment of ‘pro­ductiv­ity’ (Thes­is 21). Is this to be un­der­stood in that the lat­ter must be main­tained to al­low for the former?” Yes, it is. How could it be oth­er­wise? The mys­tery of how idle­ness is pos­sible without pro­ductiv­ity dis­solves to the ef­fect that the vile “hav­ing” in com­mun­ism is not a con­cern here, be­cause it has to do with something high­er: “It is im­port­ant to clearly em­phas­ize, that the pos­sib­il­ity of sur­plus does not en­able com­mun­ism, but that the pro­duc­tion of com­mun­ism de­term­ines the sur­plus — not quant­it­at­ively, but so­cially, in that it trans­forms the pro­duc­tion of the re­la­tions between in­di­vidu­als as in­di­vidu­als in­to the cen­ter and pur­pose of all activ­it­ies. By tran­scend­ing the cat­egory of hav­ing, com­mun­ism gives wealth, which can no longer be meas­ured, a com­pletely dif­fer­ent mean­ing.” “The sur­plus cre­ated through the com­mun­ist re­volu­tion is not of the or­der of hav­ing, but of be­ing to­geth­er, of com­munity.” In or­der to be to­geth­er in bare com­munit­ies, however, one does not have to as­sume the wager of com­mun­ist re­volu­tion; this for­tune already ex­ists today.

We quote these pas­sages in such de­tail, be­cause they do not con­cern any sec­ond­ary as­pect, but rather the cent­ral ques­tion of the re­la­tion­ship between the free so­ci­ety and the ex­ist­ing one. If something is im­port­ant in the de­bate over “com­mun­iz­a­tion,” then it is to raise again the ques­tion of the pos­sible out­come of class struggles, in­stead of merely de­scrib­ing them in in­dis­crim­in­ate strike re­ports. And if there is something right in it, then it is the in­sist­ence that this out­come can only be the end of the pro­let­ari­at, not its tri­umph. The cited pas­sages re­veal, however, a fail­ure that char­ac­ter­izes cur­rent rad­ic­als far bey­ond Théo­rie Com­mu­niste. If the so­cial­ism of the work­ers’ move­ment was little more than the per­petu­ation of the ex­ist­ing or­der un­der state con­trol, then today’s rad­ic­al­ism is of­ten mere pseudo-rad­ic­al­ism, be­cause it can no longer de­cipher the po­ten­tials for an­oth­er so­ci­ety in the ex­ist­ing one.16 The res­ult is a kind of in­ver­ted fet­ish­ism: What the polit­ic­al eco­nom­ists do as in­ten­tion­al apo­logy is here done as ap­par­ent de­nun­ci­ation. Just as from the nar­row-minded per­spect­ive of polit­ic­al eco­nomy any means of pro­duc­tion is by nature cap­it­al and labor can only take the form of wage-labor, so also do most com­mun­izers con­flate the spe­cif­ic so­cial form of the pro­duc­tion pro­cess with its ma­ter­i­al shape. Burn­ing down factor­ies and oth­er build­ings is hence seen as the highest ex­pres­sion of re­volu­tion­ary sub­jectiv­ity, as was most beau­ti­fully shown by Greek Théo­rie Com­mu­niste fol­low­ers who de­clared the re­cent Lon­don ri­ots to be a “his­tor­ic­al mile­stone” and presen­ted the burn­ing of factor­ies by strik­ing work­ers in Bangladesh as a way of “at­tack­ing their own ex­ist­ence as pro­let­ari­ans.”17 Even the simple count­ing of the items that pro­let­ari­ans loot and freely dis­trib­ute in the course of an up­ris­ing is seen by some com­mun­izers as an ori­gin­al sin since the point is to real­ize “the ab­so­lute anti-plan­ning.”18 Théo­rie Com­mu­niste in­sists that the re­volu­tion­ary rup­ture can only arise from class struggle, the con­tent of this rup­ture re­mains mys­tic­al: “The ab­ol­i­tion of classes also means the ab­ol­i­tion of activ­ity as sub­jectiv­ity as well as of its product as ob­jectiv­ity fa­cing it… The de-ob­jec­ti­fic­a­tion of the world un­folds in the move­ment of the re­volu­tion it­self.” In­stead of cri­ti­ciz­ing the so­cial forms of activ­ity and product (wage-labor and the com­mod­ity), activ­ity and product as such are con­demned; in­stead of cri­ti­ciz­ing the bare sub­jectiv­ity of the wage laborer and the ob­jectiv­ity of cap­it­al con­front­ing him as an ali­en power, war is de­clared on sub­jectiv­ity and ob­jectiv­ity as such, as if the his­tory of hu­man­ity step­ping out of nature could be re­voked short of the ex­tinc­tion of hu­man­kind it­self. The crit­ic­al con­tent of for­mu­las such as “de-ob­jec­ti­fic­a­tion of the world” and “ab­ol­i­tion of activ­ity as sub­jectiv­ity” equals noth­ing; they merely evoke an un­di­vided whole, a pure im­me­di­acy, which is why else­where noth­ing less than the “ab­ol­i­tion of so­ci­ety” and the “end of all me­di­ation”19 is an­nounced. Thus the jour­ney leads from the cri­tique of false me­di­ation to pure im­me­di­acy, from so­ci­ety to com­munity, from hav­ing to be­ing, from Marx to Buddha.

The “new cycle of struggles”

.
What Théo­rie Com­mu­niste is usu­ally cred­ited for in the in­ter­na­tion­al dis­cus­sion is the at­tempt to work out what is new about the cur­rent situ­ation and to con­sider the past his­tory of class struggle to be an ir­re­voc­ably closed chapter. Al­most all rad­ic­als have their his­tor­ic­al bench­mark where the work­ers did what they should also do now — though something al­ways went wrong, which is why “les­sons from his­tory” must be learned for it to work bet­ter next time: For left com­mun­ists, this is the peri­od after the First World War, in which there was a (not al­ways happy) in­ter­play of work­ers’ coun­cils and com­mun­ist or­gan­iz­a­tions from West­ern Europe to Rus­sia; for an­archo-syn­dic­al­ists, this was the Span­ish Civil War; for fans of the Situ­ation­ist In­ter­na­tion­al, this was May ’68; for work­er­ists, this was the fact­ory struggles of the “mass work­ers” in the 1960s and 1970s;20 for those more in­tel­lec­tu­ally flex­ible, this was a little of everything. Théo­rie Com­mu­niste in­sists that all this is equally his­tory, the work­ers’ autonomy of the 1970s no less than the left com­mun­ist and syn­dic­al­ist uni­ons of the 1920s, since the re­struc­tur­ing of re­cent dec­ades has put an end to work­ers’ power and work­ers’ iden­tity. This re­struc­tur­ing is not lim­ited to the pro­duc­tion pro­cess, but af­fects the class re­la­tion­ship as a whole:

The re­pro­duc­tion of cap­it­al, which was pinned to a more or less lim­ited na­tion­al or re­gion­al area, loses this frame­work of co­her­ence and ref­er­ences. The state pro­tec­ted the co­he­sion of this re­pro­duc­tion, in that it stems from the dom­in­ant pole (that which sub­sumes the oth­er) of the re­cip­roc­al in­volve­ment of the pro­let­ari­at and cap­it­al. It was the guar­ant­or of this in­volve­ment, what was used to called main­tain­ing the “so­cial com­prom­ise.” The prin­ciple of this loss of co­her­ence is based on the di­vi­sion between the val­or­iz­a­tion pro­cess of cap­it­al and the re­pro­duc­tion of labor power. The val­or­iz­a­tion of cap­it­al es­capes “up­wards” in frag­ments or seg­ments of the glob­al cycle of cap­it­al, on the level of in­vest­ment, the pro­duc­tion pro­cess, cred­it, fin­an­cial cap­it­al, the mar­ket, the cir­cu­la­tion of sur­plus value, the equal­iz­a­tion of profit, and the frame­work of com­pet­i­tion.

The re­pro­duc­tion of labor power es­capes “down­wards.” In the “best” case scen­ario a de­coup­ling of wage and pro­ductiv­ity oc­curs. Wel­fare is trans­formed in­to a total, stand­ard­ized pre­lim­in­ary pur­chase of labor power at the min­im­um level that sup­presses its value at the time of its in­di­vidu­al sale. In the worse case scen­ario: Self-sub­sist­ence, loc­al solid­ar­ity, and par­al­lel eco­nom­ies… Where the in­terests of in­dustry, fin­ance, and the labor force were spa­tially con­nec­ted, a sep­ar­a­tion between the val­or­iz­a­tion of cap­it­al and the re­pro­duc­tion the labor force can be es­tab­lished. The space of the re­struc­tured cap­it­al­ist world is sub­divided at all levels in its ‘fractal’ zones: world, con­tin­ents, coun­tries, re­gions, cit­ies, and neigh­bor­hoods. At each level, a con­stel­la­tion of dif­fer­ent zones is ar­tic­u­lated: an “over­de­veloped” core; zones that group them­selves around more or less dense cap­it­al­ist cores; crisis-rid­den zones char­ac­ter­ized by dir­ect vi­ol­ence against the “so­cial garbage,” mar­gins, ghet­tos, and a sub­ter­ranean eco­nomy con­trolled by vari­ous mafia groups.21

Théo­rie Com­mu­niste sum­mar­izes this situ­ation as double de­coup­ling between val­or­iz­a­tion and re­pro­duc­tion of labor power: as a geo­graph­ic di­ver­gence and as a de­coup­ling of work­ers’ in­come from the wage by means of an ex­pan­sion of con­sumer cred­it. The out­come is a crisis in the wage re­la­tion, re­flec­ted in a new “il­le­git­im­acy of the wage de­mand.” The ex­ist­ence of the work­er has lost its luster and no longer finds con­firm­a­tion in the move­ment of cap­it­al; it is no longer any­thing but an ex­tern­al con­straint. Against this back­drop, Théo­rie Com­mu­niste sees a “new cycle of struggles,” in which — ac­cord­ing to the end­lessly re­peated for­mula — to act as a class is the very lim­it of the class struggle. Ref­er­ences are made to ri­ots without de­mands like in the French ban­lieues in 2005 and in Greece in 2008; to work­ers at plant clos­ings, who do not de­mand to keep their jobs, but rather sev­er­ance pay; to work­place oc­cu­pa­tions, in which there is no self-man­aged re­sump­tion of pro­duc­tion, but rather the de­struc­tion of goods and ma­chines; to ex­per­i­ences like in Ar­gen­tina, in which the self-or­gan­iz­a­tion of work­ers as work­ers only pro­longed the sep­ar­a­tions between dif­fer­ent sec­tors; to the move­ment in France in 2006, that called for the with­draw­al of the CPE law without hop­ing for much from this de­mand, let alone be­liev­ing that the de­mand for stable jobs could cre­ate a con­nec­tion to the youths in the ban­lieues.22

As out­lined in the 28 Theses, we also see the de­fin­ing fea­tures of the last dec­ades in such terms: as the crum­bling of the great work­er’s bas­tions in the old cen­ters, pro­duc­tion re­lo­ca­tions, cas­u­al­iz­a­tion ex­tend­ing well in­to “reg­u­lar” work re­la­tions, in­creased glob­al com­pet­i­tion among the wage earners, and the re­voc­a­tion of the so­cial demo­crat­ic prom­ise of up­ward so­cial mo­bil­ity.23 And in con­trast to what is al­leged in Théo­rie Com­mu­niste’s reply, for us it is neither about a res­cue of the work­ers’ autonomy of the 1960s and 1970s (whose de­mise in the course of re­struc­tur­ing we ex­pli­citly state), nor do we ex­pect “with re­spect to the pre­cari­ous and ‘su­per­flu­ous’… the re­birth of a es­sen­tially sim­il­ar act­or,” es­pe­cially since we do not know how to ima­gine this: How should the pre­cari­ous and su­per­flu­ous bring about the re­birth of a move­ment whose basis was large-scale in­dustry? Our claim that the “fu­ture of the class as a whole de­pends de­cis­ively upon the abil­ity of the su­per­flu­ous to make their situ­ation the point of de­par­ture for a gen­er­al­ized so­cial move­ment” is pre­cisely not aimed at the “re­birth” of a faded move­ment, but at our his­tor­ic­ally nov­el situ­ation. What dis­tin­guishes the glob­al con­stel­la­tion today not only from the peri­od around 1917, but also the years around 1968, is not least of all the “gi­gant­ic sur­plus pop­u­la­tion” men­tioned in the 28 Theses which res­ults from dra­mat­ic ra­tion­al­iz­a­tion waves in in­dustry as well as from the “green re­volu­tion” in the south, i.e. the still con­tinu­ing pro­let­ari­an­iz­a­tion of the rur­al pop­u­la­tion (and thus in both cases from the de­vel­op­ment of the pro­duct­ive forces). This “in­form­al pro­let­ari­at” (Mike Dav­is) makes the “cent­ral­ity of the fact­ory” in­voked by the work­er­ists seem quite an­ti­quated, without be­ing it­self the new “cent­ral sub­ject.” We do not want to par­ti­cip­ate in such games of the the­or­ists of re­volu­tion — one frac­tion takes the pro­duct­ive work­ing class as already in­teg­rated and eagerly looks to the ex­cluded and their bread ri­ots, the oth­er frac­tion takes the bread ri­ots as power­less and re­lies on the pro­duct­ive work­ing class and its strong arms — and the ex­cess­ive ex­ag­ger­a­tion of the ri­ots in the ban­lieues in­to an up­ris­ing against “everything that pro­duces and defines them [the rebels]”24 is not ours, but Théo­rie Com­mu­niste’s.

Though largely cor­rect, Théo­rie Com­mu­niste’s pic­ture of the cur­rent era goes askew when it serves to in­voke a situ­ation in which al­most noth­ing is left to the work­ers than to rebel against their own ex­ist­ence as a class. What makes oth­ers de­pressed and gives rise to nos­tal­gia — the end­less chain of de­feats in re­cent work­ers’ struggles — provides a good reas­on to be op­tim­ist­ic in this per­spect­ive. And if we are not mis­taken, it is es­pe­cially this good news of the self-ab­ol­i­tion of the class already be­ing on the agenda in this new cycle of struggles that ac­counts for the fas­cin­a­tion of Théo­rie Com­mu­niste.

Already the im­age of the pre­vi­ous era, which largely re­sembles the “Ford­ism” of reg­u­la­tion the­or­ists, is strongly styl­ized, so that the present stands out as an even stronger con­trast. “Ford­ism” was not a co­hes­ive na­tion­al form­a­tion: The in­dus­tries that sup­por­ted it — man­u­fac­tur­ers of dur­able con­sumer goods — pro­duced for the world mar­ket and already for this reas­on did not con­sider the loc­al work­ing class as con­sumers, but, as was al­ways the case, a cost factor. The in­creas­ing real wages of the golden dec­ades after the Second World War were not “ideal”25 for val­or­iz­a­tion (this as­sump­tion is a left Keyne­sian le­gend), but had to be fought for by the work­ers and could be gained be­cause ac­cu­mu­la­tion ran like clock­work and en­sured full em­ploy­ment for quite a while.

This has long been passé. With the creep­ing crisis of over­ac­cu­mu­la­tion over the last dec­ades, re­volu­tions in com­mu­nic­a­tions and trans­port­a­tion al­low­ing for a new glob­al di­vi­sion of labor, the gi­ant pro­ductiv­ity in­creases of di­git­al tech­no­lo­gies, and the pro­let­ari­an­iz­a­tion of the south­ern hemi­sphere, this con­stel­la­tion has been broken. As a res­ult, the po­s­i­tion of wage earners in the old cen­ters has be­comes more pre­cari­ous, al­beit with sig­ni­fic­ant dif­fer­ences from coun­try to coun­try — Ger­many for ex­ample is far less “post-Ford­ist” than Bri­tain or the United States, with the core work­force of the strong ex­port in­dus­tries be­ing able to largely de­fend its po­s­i­tion. But the im­age of a glob­al down­ward spir­al of wages and work­ing con­di­tions is wrong. As much as work­ers feel the new glob­al wage pres­sure, those in the new boom zones are oc­ca­sion­ally in a po­s­i­tion to wrest something from the class en­emy. It seems quite bold to as­sume a gen­er­al “il­le­git­im­acy of the wage de­mand” when even the Eco­nom­ist wishes the Chinese work­ing class all the best in the wage struggle in or­der to bal­ance the in­equal­it­ies in the glob­al eco­nomy, and when more re­cently the de­mand for free trade uni­ons has been cir­cu­lat­ing through struggles there.26 It is of course true that the large con­cen­tra­tions of work­ers in In­dia or in China present “no re­turn of what dis­ap­peared in the ‘West’ — a so­cial sys­tem that… defined the work­er’s iden­tity and ex­pressed it­self in the labor move­ment,” if only be­cause his­tor­ic­al form­a­tions nev­er take their leave in one place in or­der to emerge again as faith­ful rep­licas in an­oth­er. But a simple cata­stroph­ism, which is already con­tra­dicted by wage de­vel­op­ments in the re­gions that are still try­ing to catch up, is hardly help­ful for un­der­stand­ing the cur­rent class real­ity. For many pro­let­ari­ans in China, In­dia, and Brazil, for ex­ample, cap­it­al­ism still, or for the first time, car­ries the prom­ise of a bet­ter life, or at least one not as bleak and mono­ton­ous as that in the coun­tryside from which, not sur­pris­ingly, they are mov­ing away to the new met­ro­pol­it­an areas. These people seem to prefer wealth of the or­der of hav­ing rather than of the be­ing to­geth­er in the vil­lage com­munity.

Théo­rie Com­mu­niste’s at­tempt to bring the vari­ous struggles around the world to the de­nom­in­at­or of a “new cycle” her­ald­ing the self-ab­ol­i­tion of the class is char­ac­ter­ized by wish­ful think­ing and res­ults in a forced con­struc­tion, a fixed sys­tem in­to which real­ity is squeezed; what does not fit in­to the pic­ture is ig­nored. It is, for ex­ample, simply not the case that wage struggles are nowhere suc­cess­ful any longer or that the de­mand for com­pens­a­tion today has gen­er­ally re­placed the de­mand to save jobs. In­stead of at­trib­ut­ing to the dis­par­ate struggles a com­mon his­tor­ic­al tend­ency, they should be un­der­stood pre­cisely in their di­versity as an ex­pres­sion of a cer­tain mo­ment.

The thes­is that we find ourselves cur­rently in a crisis of the wage re­la­tion and that the con­tra­dic­tion between cap­it­al and pro­let­ari­at is now situ­ated at the level of the re­pro­duc­tion of the classes them­selves over­states the case. Through the nor­mal course of busi­ness, the daily per­form­ance of wage labor, the class re­la­tion­ship is con­stantly re­pro­duced. By re­pro­du­cing their own lives, pro­let­ari­ans re­pro­duce cap­it­al and their de­pend­ence on it. If the life of work­ers be­comes more pre­cari­ous and the sur­plus pop­u­la­tion in­creases, that is bad for people, but ir­rel­ev­ant for cap­it­al, whose con­tin­ued ex­ist­ence does not de­pend on gen­er­al hu­man hap­pi­ness. A crisis of the wage re­la­tion­ship, un­der­stood not as a per­man­ent crisis of the pro­let­ari­an ex­ist­ence, but as a his­tor­ic­al cross­roads, would be giv­en only if the pro­let­ari­an­ized at­temp­ted to over­come this re­la­tion. Strictly speak­ing, the ma­gic for­mula that “to act as a class is the lim­it of the class struggle,” or that class ex­ist­ence today is only an ex­tern­al co­er­cion, states noth­ing more than that work­ers do not feel com­fort­able in their own skins and are less and less in a po­s­i­tion to de­fend the status quo. The dif­fer­ence from earli­er times, when there was a self-con­fid­ent work­ers’ mi­lieu, work­er’s pride, and the so­cial­ist vis­ion of a fu­ture work­ers’ civil­iz­a­tion freed from the idlers and bosses, should not be un­der­es­tim­ated. However, the dis­ap­pear­ance of all this means in it­self noth­ing more than that the only ho­ri­zon re­main­ing is the old world, as rot­ten and ail­ing as it may be. Com­pared to the cur­rent calls for “real demo­cracy,” for reg­u­lat­ing fin­an­cial mar­kets, re­dis­tri­bu­tion, and so forth, with which the wage earners in the old cen­ters protest against their pro­ceed­ing pre­car­iz­a­tion, even the worn-out so­cial­ism of the old days can look al­most sub­vers­ive.

The­ory and pro­jec­tion

.
Théorie Com­mun­iste evades this bleak real­ity with an op­er­a­tion that stems from the ar­sen­al of ex­actly the old ul­tra-left­ism to whose su­per­ses­sion they have com­mit­ted them­selves: the the­or­ists project their de­sire for re­volu­tion onto con­tem­por­ary struggles. Just as some coun­cil com­mun­ists saw the dawn of the coun­cil­ist re­volu­tion whenev­er work­ers’ ac­tions had es­caped uni­on con­trol, today’s struggles are seen by Théorie Com­mun­iste also in a tri­umphal­ist light: “Com­mun­ism be­longs to the present, be­cause it is the con­tent of the cur­rent prac­tices of class struggle.” Re­leg­ated to the realm of myths as a his­tor­ic­al con­stant, the re­volu­tion­ary nature of the pro­let­ari­at sud­denly emerges in the present: “The pro­let­ari­at as a class of the cap­it­al­ist mode of pro­duc­tion and the re­volu­tion­ary class are identic­al.” Already the no­tion of a goal and the sober ob­ser­va­tion that this goal cur­rently has few friends is con­sidered rep­re­hens­ible. And the same com­mun­ist the­or­ists who showed no in­hib­i­tion to define in great de­tail what com­mun­ism is and isn’t sud­denly show great hu­mil­ity and claim to be noth­ing more than note takers of the pro­let­ari­an world spir­it, whose activ­ity takes place be­fore their eyes: “It’s not about ask­ing the ques­tion of the end point of the class struggle in the fu­ture, but the defin­i­tion it­self of the con­tra­dic­tion between the pro­let­ari­at and cap­it­al, which now rep­res­ents the class struggle.” Such hu­mil­ity amounts to a con­sid­er­able hubris, in so far as the the­or­ists’ com­mun­ism is no longer merely an idea of the the­or­ists — and maybe a fairly ec­cent­ric one at that — but is awar­ded the high­er con­sec­ra­tion of ex­press­ing the his­tor­ic­al move­ment it­self. Our re­flec­tions on the re­la­tion between the­ory and prac­tice may be un­sat­is­fact­ory. But it is even more un­sat­is­fact­ory to re­solve the prob­lem by deny­ing the dif­fer­ence out of hand and de­clar­ing one’s own the­ory as noth­ing more than the con­densed and gen­er­al­ized ex­pres­sion of the struggles them­selves.

This pro­claimed self-lim­it­a­tion of the­ory can­not be main­tained by the ad­voc­ates of com­mun­iz­a­tion. To take this self-lim­it­a­tion ser­i­ously would be to elim­in­ate pre­cisely what is rel­ev­ant in the de­bate on com­mun­iz­a­tion, namely the at­tempt to re­define the re­volu­tion after the end of so­cial­ism in all its dif­fer­ent fa­cets. By play­ing through the idea of what re­volu­tion can mean at a his­tor­ic­al point in which the con­quest of polit­ic­al power as well as work­ers’ self-man­age­ment have been ex­hausted as a per­spect­ive, in which there can be no unity of the class be­fore its self-ab­ol­i­tion and the class maybe does not even have to re­cog­nize it­self as such in or­der to take ac­tion, by stress­ing for ex­ample that in a situ­ation of re­volu­tion­ary crisis the seizure and free dis­tri­bu­tion of goods would be the most power­ful weapon of the pro­let­ari­at in the pro­cess of ab­ol­ish­ing it­self, such con­tri­bu­tions to the de­bate are noth­ing less than com­mun­ist so­cial fic­tion, a con­scious pro­jec­tion, and that is what makes them in­ter­est­ing.27

What makes them flawed is a steady drift to­wards mys­ti­cism, ul­ti­mately driv­en by fear of the concept of pro­duc­tion, though the pic­ture is not al­ways so clear in this re­spect. Pre­cisely at this de­cis­ive point the the­or­ists of com­mun­iz­a­tion en­tangle them­selves in noth­ing but con­tra­dic­tions and end up in com­plete con­fu­sion. Hav­ing said that “the cap­it­al­ist mode of pro­duc­tion already al­lows us to see — al­beit con­tra­dict­or­ily and not as a ‘good side’ — hu­man activ­ity as a con­tinu­ous glob­al so­cial flux, and the ‘gen­er­al in­tel­lect’ or ‘col­lect­ive work­er’ as the dom­in­ant force of pro­duc­tion,” they as­sert in the very next sen­tence that the “so­cial char­ac­ter of pro­duc­tion does not pre­fig­ure any­thing”;28 the product ab­ol­ished as such a mo­ment ago ree­m­erges in shame­faced quo­ta­tion marks in the scen­ario of re­volu­tion, where it is freely dis­trib­uted; so­cial­iz­a­tion of labor and the means of pro­duc­tion are deemed some­times as the “Al­pha and Omega of the af­firm­a­tion of the pro­let­ari­at,” and at oth­er times as the only re­volu­tion­ary way out. At times it seems that the the­or­ists of com­mun­iz­a­tion do not really un­der­stand them­selves. It re­mains to their cred­it that they ruth­lessly note the end of an era, show­ing what from today’s per­spect­ive is in­suf­fi­cient about earli­er at­tempts at re­volu­tion, and at least pose the ques­tion of how the es­cal­a­tion of class struggles in­to com­mun­ism could oc­cur today.

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Notes


1 “The pro­let­ari­at ex­ecutes the sen­tence that private prop­erty pro­nounces on it­self by pro­du­cing the pro­let­ari­at, just as it ex­ecutes the sen­tence that wage-labor pro­nounces on it­self by pro­du­cing wealth for oth­ers and poverty for it­self. When the pro­let­ari­at is vic­tori­ous, it by no means be­comes the ab­so­lute side of so­ci­ety, for it is vic­tori­ous only by ab­ol­ish­ing it­self and its op­pos­ite. Then the pro­let­ari­at dis­ap­pears as well as the op­pos­ite which de­term­ines it, private prop­erty.” Fre­d­er­ick En­gels/Karl Marx, The Holy Fam­ily, or Cri­tique of Crit­ic­al Cri­ti­cism (MECW 4) p. 36.
2 Freun­din­nen und Freun­de der klas­sen­lo­sen Ge­sell­schaft, 28 The­sen zur Klas­sen­ge­sell­schaft, Kos­mo­pro­let 1 (2007) [eng­lish trans­la­tion]. The cri­tique to which we reply here was pub­lished as Théo­rie Com­mu­niste, Zwi­schen Ar­bei­ter­au­to­no­mie und Kom­mu­ni­sie­rung. Ei­ne Kri­tik an den 28 The­sen zur Klas­sen­ge­sell­schaftKos­mo­pro­let 3 (2011) [Eng­lish trans­la­tion]. The much longer French ori­gin­al of this text can be found here.
3 Gilles Dauvé / Karl Nes­ic, “Love of Labor? Love of Labor Lost” [2002]. We quote from the slightly dif­fer­ent Ger­man ver­sion pub­lished as “Lieben die Arbei­t­er­Innen die Arbeit?” (Sup­ple­ment to Wild­cat-Zirku­lar 65, 2003).
4 The Brit­ish-Amer­ic­an journ­al End­notes has doc­u­mented and com­men­ted on parts of this on­go­ing ex­change.
5 Karl Marx, Cap­it­al, vol. 1 (MECW 35) p. 51.
6 Pro­gram of the Ger­man Com­mun­ist Work­ers’ Party (1920). The KAPD was foun­ded in the spring of 1920 as an ul­tra-left split-off from the KPD, which they ac­cused of an au­thor­it­ari­an “lead­er policy” and a de­par­ture from anti-par­lia­ment­ar­ism and the re­jec­tion of uni­ons. While they ini­tially sought to be­come a mem­ber of the Bolshev­ik Third In­ter­na­tion­al and even jus­ti­fied the sup­pres­sion of the Kron­stadt up­ris­ing in 1921, they soon turned to a sharp cri­tique of Rus­si­an “state cap­it­al­ism.” With the ebbing of the re­volu­tion­ary wave after the war, the party, which had ap­par­ently coun­ted up to 80,000 mem­bers, quickly fell in­to in­fight­ing and fi­nally in­to ut­ter in­sig­ni­fic­ance.
7 Group of In­ter­na­tion­al Com­mun­ists (Hol­land), Fun­da­ment­al Prin­ciples of Com­mun­ist Pro­duc­tion and Dis­tri­bu­tion [1930].
8 C.f. In­for­ma­tions et cor­res­pon­dences ou­vrières (ICO), La Grève gé­né­ra­li­sée en France, mai-juin 1968 [1968], Par­is 2007.
9 Paul Mat­tick, “In­tro­duc­tion” to The Fun­da­ment­al Prin­ciples of Com­mun­ist Pro­duc­tion and Dis­tri­bu­tion [1970]’.
10 Loren Gold­ner, “Fa­cing Real­ity 45 Years Later: Crit­ic­al Dia­logue with James/Lee/Chau­lieu.”
11 Her­bert Mar­cuse, Das En­de der Uto­pie. Vor­trä­ge und Dis­kus­sio­nen in Ber­lin 1967, (Frank­furt/M. 1980), p. 10, 14.
12 Ibid., p. 34-35.
13 An at­tempt to de­cipher the cur­rent crisis of the value form is un­der­taken by Sander, „Ei­ne Kri­se des Werts“, Kos­mo­pro­let 2 (2009) [eng­lish ver­sion].
14 Marx, Cap­it­al vol. 1, p. 87.
15 Marx, “Cri­tique of the Gotha Pro­gram.”
16 This idea is de­veloped in de­tail in Raas­an Samuel Loewe, „Pro­duk­tiv­kraft­kri­tik und pro­le­ta­ri­sche Be­we­gung“, Kos­mo­pro­let 3, 2011.
17 Blau­machen, The era of ri­ots (up­date), on lib­com.org. As Blau­machen them­selves ex­plain, the factor­ies were burnt down be­cause the bosses had paid no wages for sev­er­al months — a clearly le­git­im­ate and hope­fully ef­fect­ive means in the struggle for wages, one that is without doubt also driv­en by hatred of the drudgery in the fact­ory, but noth­ing that would point bey­ond the pro­let­ari­an ex­ist­ence. For largely ap­pro­pri­ate ob­jec­tions against such tend­en­cies among com­mun­izers see Sander / Mac In­tosh, “Is the Work­ing Class Li­quid­ated?”In­ter­na­tion­al­ist Per­spect­ive 55 (2011).
18 Bruno As­tari­an, Crisis Activ­ity and Com­mun­iz­a­tion (2010). In this, As­tari­an agrees with Théo­rie Com­mu­niste, but he some­times goes even fur­ther in his im­me­di­at­ist mys­ti­cism: To him, also “the sep­ar­a­tion between the need and the means of its sat­is­fac­tion,” which will pre­sum­ably turn out to be quite im­possible to over­come, is a prob­lem.
19 Théo­rie Com­mu­niste, “The Sus­pen­ded Step of Com­mun­iz­a­tion: Com­mun­iz­a­tion vs. So­cial­iz­a­tion” (2009).
20 Since work­er­ists en­deavor to ex­plore the ac­tu­al be­ha­vi­or of the class, such a his­tor­ic fix­a­tion should be far from their thoughts. Like any em­pir­ic­al study, however, also the work­er­ist in­quir­ies are based on cer­tain as­sump­tions which de­cide what one is look­ing for in the first place. In their case this is the con­vic­tion that what mat­ters is “work­ers’ power” at the point of pro­duc­tion. For this reas­on, they are also today look­ing for the pi­on­eer­ing struggles “along the glob­al­ized pro­duct­ive co­oper­a­tion” — “with mod­er­ate suc­cess,” as they them­selves con­cede (Pre­face to the sup­ple­ment Der his­to­ri­sche Mo­ment / Ar­bei­te­rIn­nen ver­las­sen die Fa­brik, Wild­cat 88 (2011)). On the res­ult­ing ideo­lo­gic­al con­tor­tions, cf. I. M. Zi­m­mer­wald, „Die Aben­teu­er der Au­to­no­mie“, Kos­mo­pro­let 1 (2007).
21 R.S., “Bal­lade en novembre” (2005).
22 R.S. “The Present Mo­ment” (2009).
23 This is by no means ori­gin­al, as these de­vel­op­ments are quite ob­vi­ous and are also dis­cussed by the aca­dem­ic and re­form­ist left. In con­trast to them, however, we do not take these de­vel­op­ments as a res­ult of an ul­ti­mately ar­bit­rary, and there­fore re­vers­ible “neo­lib­er­al” policy shift.
24 R.S. “The Present Mo­ment.”
25 Ibid.
26 “The rising power of China’s work­ers: Why it’s good for the world,” The Eco­nom­ist, 31.7.2010.
27 See, for ex­ample, Théo­rie Com­mu­niste, “Self-Or­gan­iz­a­tion is the First Act of the Re­volu­tion; It Then Be­comes an Obstacle which the Re­volu­tion Has to Over­come” (2005); “The Sus­pen­ded Step of Com­mun­iz­a­tion” (2009).
28 Théo­rie Com­mu­niste, “Self-Or­gan­iz­a­tion is the First Act…”


Rosa Lux­em­burg and the party

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Chris Cutrone
Platy­pus Re­view
May 21, 2016
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In one of her earli­est in­ter­ven­tionsin the So­cial-Demo­crat­ic Party of Ger­many (SPD), par­ti­cip­at­ing in the no­tori­ous the­or­et­ic­al “Re­vi­sion­ist Dis­pute,” in which Eduard Bern­stein in­fam­ously stated that “the move­ment is everything, the goal noth­ing,” the 27 year-old Rosa Lux­em­burg clearly enun­ci­ated her Marx­ism: “It is the fi­nal goal alone which con­sti­tutes the spir­it and the con­tent of our so­cial­ist struggle, which turns it in­to a class struggle.”1

Cri­tique of so­cial­ism

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What did it mean to say that so­cial­ist polit­ics was ne­ces­sary to have “class struggle” at all? This goes to the heart of Lux­em­burg’s own Marx­ism, and to her most en­dur­ing con­tri­bu­tion to its his­tory: her Marx­ist ap­proach to the polit­ic­al party for so­cial­ism — a dia­lect­ic­al un­der­stand­ing of class and party, in which Marx­ism it­self was grasped in a crit­ic­al-dia­lect­ic­al way. When Lux­em­burg ac­cused Bern­stein of be­ing “un­dia­lect­ic­al,” this is what she meant: That the work­ing class’ struggle for so­cial­ism was it­self self-con­tra­dict­ory and its polit­ic­al party was the means through which this con­tra­dic­tion was ex­pressed. There was a dia­lectic of means and ends, or of “move­ment” and “goal,” in which the dia­lectic of the­ory and prac­tice took part: Marx­ism de­man­ded its own cri­tique. Lux­em­burg took the con­tro­versy of the Re­vi­sion­ist Dis­pute as an oc­ca­sion for this cri­tique.

In this, Lux­em­burg fol­lowed the young Karl Marx’s own form­at­ive dia­lect­ic­al cri­tiques of so­cial­ism when he was in his twenties, from the Septem­ber 1843 let­ter to Arnold Ruge call­ing for the “ruth­less cri­tique of everything ex­ist­ing,” to the cri­tique of Pierre-Joseph Proud­hon in the 1844 Eco­nom­ic and Philo­soph­ic Manuscripts and The Poverty of Philo­sophy (1847), as well as in The Ger­man Ideo­logy and its fam­ous Theses on Feuerbach (1845). Marx had writ­ten of the so­cial­ist move­ment that:

The in­tern­al dif­fi­culties seem to be al­most great­er than the ex­tern­al obstacles…

[W]e must try to help the dog­mat­ists to cla­ri­fy their pro­pos­i­tions for them­selves. Thus, com­mun­ism, in par­tic­u­lar, is a dog­mat­ic ab­strac­tion; in which con­nec­tion, however, I am not think­ing of some ima­gin­ary and pos­sible com­mun­ism, but ac­tu­ally ex­ist­ing com­mun­ism as taught by Ca­bet, Dézamy, Weitling, etc. This com­mun­ism is it­self only a spe­cial ex­pres­sion of the hu­man­ist­ic prin­ciple, an ex­pres­sion which is still in­fec­ted by its an­ti­thes­is — the private sys­tem. Hence the ab­ol­i­tion of private prop­erty and com­mun­ism are by no means identic­al, and it is not ac­ci­dent­al but in­ev­it­able that com­mun­ism has seen oth­er so­cial­ist doc­trines — such as those of Four­i­er, Proud­hon, etc. — arising to con­front it be­cause it is it­self only a spe­cial, one-sided real­iz­a­tion of the so­cial­ist prin­ciple…

Hence, noth­ing pre­vents us from mak­ing cri­ti­cism of polit­ics, par­ti­cip­a­tion in polit­ics, and there­fore real struggles, the start­ing point of our cri­ti­cism, and from identi­fy­ing our cri­ti­cism with them.… We do not say to the world: Cease your struggles, they are fool­ish; we will give you the true slo­gan of struggle. We merely show the world what it is really fight­ing for…

The re­form of con­scious­ness con­sists only in mak­ing the world aware of its own con­scious­ness, in awaken­ing it out of its dream about it­self, in ex­plain­ing to it the mean­ing of its own ac­tions.

Such for­mu­la­tions re­curred in Marx’s Theses on Feuerbach a couple of years later:

But that the sec­u­lar basis de­taches it­self from it­self and es­tab­lishes it­self as an in­de­pend­ent realm in the clouds can only be ex­plained by the cleav­ages and self-con­tra­dic­tions with­in this sec­u­lar basis. The lat­ter must, there­fore, in it­self be both un­der­stood in its con­tra­dic­tion and re­vo­lu­tion­ized in prac­tice.

For Marx, this meant that so­cial­ism was the ex­pres­sion of the con­tra­dic­tion of cap­it­al­ism and as such was it­self bound up in that con­tra­dic­tion. A prop­er dia­lect­ic­al re­la­tion of so­cial­ism with cap­it­al­ism re­quired a re­cog­ni­tion of the dia­lectic with­in so­cial­ism it­self. Marx fol­lowed Hegel in re­gard­ing con­tra­dic­tion as mani­fest­a­tion of the need for change. The “pro­let­ari­at” — the work­ing class after the In­dus­tri­al Re­volu­tion — con­tra­dicted bour­geois so­ci­ety, not from out­side but from with­in. As such, the con­tra­dic­tion of cap­it­al­ism centered on the pro­let­ari­at it­self. This is be­cause for Marx “cap­it­al­ism” is noth­ing in it­self, but only the crisis of bour­geois so­ci­ety in in­dus­tri­al pro­duc­tion and hence its only mean­ing is the ex­pres­sion of the need for so­cial­ism. The very ex­ist­ence of the pro­let­ari­at — a work­ing class ex­pro­pri­ated from its bour­geois prop­erty-rights in labor as a com­mod­ity — de­man­ded so­cial­ism.

Las­sallean party

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But had the so­cial-demo­crat­ic work­ers’ party been from its out­set a force for coun­ter­re­volu­tion — for pre­serving cap­it­al­ism — rather than for re­volu­tion­ary trans­form­a­tion and the achieve­ment of so­cial­ism? Its roots in Ferdin­and Las­salle’s for­mu­la­tion of its pur­pose as the “per­man­ent polit­ic­al cam­paign of the work­ing class” evinced a po­ten­tial con­tra­dic­tion between its Las­sallean­ism and Marx­ism. Marx­ists had not in­ven­ted the so­cial-demo­crat­ic work­ers’ party, but rather joined it as an emer­gent phe­nomen­on of the late 19th cen­tury. The so­cial-demo­crat­ic work­ers’ party in Ger­many, what be­came the SPD, had, through its fu­sion of 1875 at Gotha, at­tained Marx­ist or “re­volu­tion­ary” lead­er­ship. But this had eli­cited Marx’s fam­ous Cri­tique of the Gotha Pro­gramme, to which Marx’s own fol­low­ers, Wil­helm Lieb­knecht and Au­gust Bebel, could only shrug their shoulders at the dif­fi­culty of pleas­ing the “old men in Lon­don” (that is, Marx and En­gels). The de­vel­op­ment of the SPD to­wards its con­scious dir­ec­tion bey­ond mere Las­sallean­ism was more clearly enun­ci­ated in the SPD’s Er­furt Pro­gramme of 1891. Non­ethe­less the ghost of Las­salle seemed to haunt sub­sequent de­vel­op­ments and was still present, ac­cord­ing to En­gels’ cri­tique of it, in the “Marx­ist” Er­furt Pro­gramme it­self. (In­deed, one of Rosa Lux­em­burg’s earli­est achieve­ments in her par­ti­cip­a­tion in the life of the SPD was to un­earth and dis­cov­er the sig­ni­fic­ance of En­gels’ cri­tique of Bebel, Kaut­sky, and Bern­stein’s Er­furt Pro­gram.)

Lux­em­burg, in her cri­tique of the SPD through re­gard­ing the party as a mani­fest­a­tion of con­tra­dic­tion, fol­lowed Marx and En­gels, whose re­cog­ni­tion was the means to ad­vance it bey­ond it­self. Las­salle had made the mis­take of op­pos­ing the polit­ic­al against and derog­at­ing the eco­nom­ic ac­tion of the work­ers, re­ject­ing labor uni­ons, which he called merely the “vain ef­forts of things to be­have like hu­man be­ings.”2 Las­salle thus on­to­lo­gized the polit­ic­al struggle. For Las­salle, the work­ers tak­ing polit­ic­al power would be tan­tamount to the achieve­ment of so­cial­ism; where­as for Marx this would be merely a trans­ition­al re­volu­tion­ary “dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at” that would lead to so­cial­ism. En­gels called it the trans­ition from the “gov­ern­ing of men” to the “ad­min­is­tra­tion of things” — an em­in­ently dia­lect­ic­al for­mu­la­tion, since hu­mans are both sub­jects and ob­jects of so­ci­ety.

Las­salle’s polit­ic­al on­to­logy of so­cial­ism was com­ple­ment­ary to the one-sided “vul­gar Marx­ist” mis­ap­pre­hen­sions of the Re­vi­sion­ists who pri­or­it­ized and in­deed on­to­lo­gized the eco­nom­ic over the polit­ic­al, re­du­cing the so­cial to the eco­nom­ic, and re­lat­ing the so­cial to the polit­ic­al “mech­an­ic­ally” and “un­dia­lect­ic­ally” — neg­lect­ing the con­tra­dic­tion between them in an “eco­nom­ic de­term­in­ism” that sub­or­din­ated polit­ics. Where Las­salle sub­or­din­ated eco­nom­ics to polit­ics in a “state so­cial­ism,” Marx re­garded this rather as a state cap­it­al­ism. In­deed, des­pite or rather due to this an­ti­nomy, the Las­salleans and the eco­nom­ist­ic re­form­ists ac­tu­ally con­verged in their polit­ic­al per­spect­ives — giv­ing rise later to 20th cen­tury wel­fare-state cap­it­al­ism through the gov­ernance of so­cial-demo­crat­ic parties.

Rather than tak­ing one side over the oth­er, Lux­em­burg, as a Marx­ist, ap­proached this prob­lem as a real con­tra­dic­tion: an an­ti­nomy and dia­lectic of cap­it­al­ism it­self that mani­fes­ted in the work­ers’ own dis­con­tents and struggles with­in it, both eco­nom­ic­ally and polit­ic­ally. For in­stance, Lux­em­burg fol­lowed Marx in re­cog­niz­ing that the Las­sallean goal of the work­ers achiev­ing a “free state” in polit­ic­al re­volu­tion was a self-con­tra­dic­tion: An un­free so­ci­ety gave rise to an un­free state; and it was so­ci­ety that needed to be eman­cip­ated from cap­it­al­ism. But this was a con­tra­dic­tion that could be posed only by the work­ers’ re­volu­tion­ary polit­ic­al ac­tion and seiz­ing of state power — if only to “with­er” it away in the trans­form­a­tion of so­ci­ety bey­ond cap­it­al­ism. In this way the Las­sallean party was not a mis­take but rather a ne­ces­sary stage mani­fest­ing in the his­tory of the work­ers’ move­ment. So it needed to be prop­erly re­cog­nized — “dia­lect­ic­ally” — in or­der to avoid its one-sided pit­falls in the op­pos­i­tion of Re­vi­sion­ist, re­form­ist eco­nom­ic evol­u­tion­ism versus the Las­sallean polit­ic­al re­volu­tion­ism. Kaut­sky fol­lowed Marx in a crit­ic­al en­dorse­ment of Las­sallean­ism in re­gard­ing the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at as the seiz­ing of state power by the work­ers’ party for so­cial­ism. Hence, Lux­em­burg ex­pressed her sin­cere “grat­it­ude” that the Re­vi­sion­ists had oc­ca­sioned this crit­ic­al self-re­cog­ni­tion, by pos­ing the ques­tion and prob­lem of “move­ment” and “goal.”

An­ti­nomy of re­form­ism

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Lux­em­burg made her great en­trance onto the polit­ic­al stage of her time with the pamph­let So­cial Re­form or Re­volu­tion? (1900). In it, Lux­em­burg laid out how the ori­gin­al con­tra­dic­tion of cap­it­al­ism, between its chaot­ic so­cial re­la­tions and its so­cial­iz­a­tion of pro­duc­tion had been fur­ther de­veloped, ex­acer­bated, and deepened by the de­vel­op­ment of a new con­tra­dic­tion, namely the growth of the work­ers’ move­ment in polit­ic­al or­gan­iz­a­tion and con­scious­ness: Its move­ment for so­cial­ism was a self-con­tra­dict­ory ex­pres­sion of the con­tra­dic­tion of cap­it­al­ism. This con­tras­ted with Bern­stein’s view that the growth and de­vel­op­ment of the work­ers’ move­ment was the over­com­ing of the con­tra­dic­tion of cap­it­al­ism and the gradu­al “evol­u­tion” of so­cial­ism. For Bern­stein, the move­ment for so­cial­ism was the achieve­ment of so­cial­ism, where­as the goal of so­cial­ism was a dis­pens­able fig­ment, a use­ful en­abling fic­tion.

For Lux­em­burg, however, the con­tra­dic­tion of the in­dus­tri­al forces of pro­duc­tion against their bour­geois so­cial re­la­tions in cap­it­al­ism was re­capit­u­lated in the con­tra­dic­tion between the means and ends of the work­ers’ move­ment for so­cial­ism. So­cial­ism was not built up with­in cap­it­al­ism; but only the con­tra­dic­tion of cap­it­al deepened through work­ers’ struggle against ex­ploit­a­tion. How so? Their de­mand for a share of the value of pro­duc­tion was a bour­geois de­mand: the de­mand for the value of their labor as a com­mod­ity. However, what was achieved by in­creases in wages, re­cog­ni­tion of col­lect­ive bar­gain­ing rights, leg­al pro­tec­tions of work­ers in cap­it­al­ist labor con­tracts and the ac­cept­ance of re­spons­ib­il­ity of the state for the con­di­tions of labor, in­clud­ing the ac­cept­ance of the right to polit­ic­al as­so­ci­ation and demo­crat­ic polit­ic­al par­ti­cip­a­tion in the state, was not the over­com­ing of the prob­lem of cap­it­al — that is, the over­com­ing of the great di­ver­gence and so­cial con­tra­dic­tion between the value of cap­it­al and wages in in­dus­tri­al pro­duc­tion — but rather its ex­acer­ba­tion and deep­en­ing through its broad­en­ing onto so­ci­ety as a whole. What the work­ers re­ceived in re­forms of cap­it­al­ism was not the value of their labor-power as a com­mod­ity, which was re­l­at­ively min­im­ized by de­vel­op­ments of in­dus­tri­al tech­nique, but rather a cut of the profits of cap­it­al, wheth­er dir­ectly through col­lect­ive bar­gain­ing with the em­ploy­ers or in­dir­ectly through state dis­tri­bu­tion of so­cial wel­fare be­ne­fits from the tax on cap­it­al. What Bern­stein de­scribed op­tim­ist­ic­ally as the so­cial­iz­a­tion of pro­duc­tion through such re­forms was ac­tu­ally, ac­cord­ing to Lux­em­burg, the “so­cial­iz­a­tion” of the crisis of cap­it­al­ist pro­duc­tion.

The work­ers’ party for so­cial­ism, through its growth and de­vel­op­ment on a mass scale, thus in­creas­ingly took polit­ic­al re­spons­ib­il­ity for cap­it­al­ism. Hence, a new con­tra­dic­tion de­veloped that was fo­cused on the party it­self. Was its pur­pose to man­age cap­it­al­ism, or rather, as Lux­em­burg put it in her 1898 Stut­tgart speech, to “play the role of the banker-law­yer who li­quid­ates a bank­rupt com­pany”? Lux­em­burg posed the polit­ic­al task of the so­cial­ist party in Re­form or Re­volu­tion? suc­cinctly: “It is an il­lu­sion, then, to think that the pro­let­ari­at can cre­ate eco­nom­ic power with­in cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety. It can only cre­ate polit­ic­al power and then trans­form [auf­heben] cap­it­al­ist prop­erty.” The pro­let­ari­an so­cial­ist party was the means for cre­at­ing that polit­ic­al power. This differed from the de­vel­op­ment of bour­geois so­cial re­la­tions in feud­al­ism that led to re­volu­tion:

What does it mean that the earli­er classes, par­tic­u­larly the third es­tate, conquered eco­nom­ic power be­fore polit­ic­al power? Noth­ing more than the his­tor­ic­al fact that all pre­vi­ous class struggles must be de­rived from the eco­nom­ic fact that the rising class has at the same time cre­ated a new form of prop­erty upon which it will base its class dom­in­a­tion.

However, ac­cord­ing to Lux­em­burg, “[t]he as­ser­tion that the pro­let­ari­at, in con­trast to all pre­vi­ous class struggles, pur­sues its battles not in or­der to es­tab­lish class dom­in­a­tion but to ab­ol­ish all class dom­in­a­tion is not a mere phrase.” This is be­cause the pro­let­ari­at does not de­vel­op a new form of “prop­erty” with­in cap­it­al­ism, but rather struggles eco­nom­ic­ally, so­cially and polit­ic­ally, on the basis of “bour­geois prop­erty” — on the basis of the bour­geois so­cial re­la­tions of labor, or of labor as a com­mod­ity. What the work­ing class’ struggle with­in cap­it­al­ism achieves is con­scious­ness of the need to over­come labor as a com­mod­ity, or, to trans­form cap­it­al from bour­geois prop­erty in­to so­cial prop­erty that is no longer me­di­ated by the ex­change of labor. This is what it meant for Marx that the pro­let­ari­at struggles not to “real­ize” but to ab­ol­ish it­self, or, how the pro­let­ari­at goes from be­ing a class “in it­self” to be­com­ing a class “for it­self” (The Poverty of Philo­sophy, 1847) in its struggle for so­cial­ism.

For Lux­em­burg, the achieve­ment of re­forms with­in cap­it­al­ism ac­com­plish noth­ing but the great­er prac­tic­al and the­or­et­ic­al real­iz­a­tion, or “con­scious­ness,” of the need to ab­ol­ish labor as a com­mod­ity, since the lat­ter has been out­stripped by in­dus­tri­al pro­duc­tion. The fur­ther eco­nom­ic, so­cial, and polit­ic­al re­forms only dra­mat­ic­ally in­crease this dis­par­ity and con­tra­dic­tion between the eco­nom­ic value of labor as a com­mod­ity and the so­cial value of cap­it­al that must be ap­pro­pri­ated by so­ci­ety as a whole.

In oth­er words, the work­ers’ move­ment for so­cial­ism and its in­sti­tu­tion as a polit­ic­al party is ne­ces­sary to make the oth­er­wise chaot­ic, un­con­scious, “ob­ject­ive” phe­nomen­on of the eco­nom­ic con­tra­dic­tion and crisis of wage-labor and cap­it­al in­to a con­scious, “sub­ject­ive” phe­nomen­on of polit­ics. As Lux­em­burg wrote later, in The Crisis of Ger­man So­cial Demo­cracy (the “Ju­ni­us Pamph­let,” 1915):

So­cial­ism is the first pop­u­lar move­ment in world his­tory that has set it­self the goal of bring­ing hu­man con­scious­ness, and thereby free will, in­to play in the so­cial ac­tions of man­kind. For this reas­on, Friedrich En­gels des­ig­nated the fi­nal vic­tory of the so­cial­ist pro­let­ari­at a leap of hu­man­ity from the an­im­al world in­to the realm of free­dom. This “leap” is also an iron law of his­tory bound to the thou­sands of seeds of a pri­or tor­ment-filled and all-too-slow de­vel­op­ment. But this can nev­er be real­ized un­til the de­vel­op­ment of com­plex ma­ter­i­al con­di­tions strikes the in­cen­di­ary spark of con­scious will in the great masses. The vic­tory of so­cial­ism will not des­cend from heav­en. It can only be won by a long chain of vi­ol­ent tests of strength between the old and the new powers. The in­ter­na­tion­al pro­let­ari­at un­der the lead­er­ship of the So­cial Demo­crats will thereby learn to try to take its his­tory in­to its own hands; in­stead of re­main­ing a will-less foot­ball, it will take the tiller of so­cial life and be­come the pi­lot to the goal of its own his­tory.

Why “vi­ol­ent tests of strength”? Was this mere “re­volu­tion­ary” pas­sion, as Bern­stein averred? No: As Marx had ob­served in Das Kapit­al, in the struggle over the “work­ing day,” or over the so­cial and leg­al con­ven­tions for the con­di­tion of labor-time, work­ers and cap­it­al­ists con­fron­ted each oth­er, both with “bour­geois right” on their side. But, “Where right meets right, force will de­cide.” Such con­tests of force did not de­cide the is­sue of right in cap­it­al­ism, but only channeled it in a polit­ic­al dir­ec­tion. Both cap­it­al and wage-labor re­tained their so­cial rights, but the polit­ic­al arena in which their claims were de­cided shif­ted from civil so­ci­ety to the state, pos­ing a crisis — the need for “re­volu­tion.”

1848: State and re­volu­tion

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For Lux­em­burg, the mod­ern state was it­self merely the “product of the last re­volu­tion,” namely the polit­ic­al in­sti­tu­tion­al­iz­a­tion of the con­di­tion of class struggle up to that point. The “last re­volu­tion” was that of 1848, in which the “so­cial ques­tion” was posed as a crisis of the demo­crat­ic re­pub­lic. As such, the state re­mained both the sub­ject and the ob­ject of re­volu­tion­ary polit­ics. Marx had con­flic­ted with the an­arch­ists in the First In­ter­na­tion­al over the is­sue of the need for “polit­ic­al” as well as “so­cial ac­tion” in the work­ing class’ struggle for so­cial­ism. The Re­vi­sion­ists such as Bern­stein had, to Lux­em­burg’s mind, re­ver­ted to the pre-Marxi­an so­cial­ism of an­arch­ism in abandon­ing the struggle for polit­ic­al power in fa­vor of merely so­cial ac­tion. In this, Lux­em­burg char­ac­ter­ized Bern­stein as hav­ing re­gressed (like the an­arch­ists) to mere “lib­er­al­ism.” What Bern­stein like the an­arch­ists denied was what Marx had dis­covered in the ex­per­i­ence of the re­volu­tions of 1848, namely, the ne­ces­sity of the “dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at,” and hence the ne­ces­sary polit­ic­al sep­ar­a­tion of the work­ers’ “so­cial demo­cracy” from the mere “demo­cracy” of the bour­geois re­volu­tion, in­clud­ing the ne­ces­sary sep­ar­a­tion from the “petit-bour­geois demo­crats” who earned Marx’s most scath­ing scorn.

While lib­er­als denied the need for such “so­cial demo­cracy” and found polit­ic­al demo­cracy to be suf­fi­cient, an­arch­ists sep­ar­ated the so­cial from the polit­ic­al, treat­ing the lat­ter as a fet­ish­ized realm of col­lu­sion in the bour­geois state and hence cap­it­al­ism. An­arch­ists from the first, Proud­hon, had avoided the is­sue of polit­ic­al re­volu­tion and the need to take state power; where­as Marx­ists had re­cog­nized that the crisis of cap­it­al­ism in­ev­it­ably res­ul­ted in polit­ic­al crisis and struggle over the state: If the work­ing class failed to do so, oth­ers would step in their place. For Marx, the need for work­ers’ polit­ic­al re­volu­tion to achieve so­cial­ism was ex­pressed by the phe­nomen­on of Louis Bona­parte’s elec­tion in 1848 and coup d’état in 1851, which ex­pressed the in­ab­il­ity of the “bour­geois­ie to rule” any longer through civil so­ci­ety, while the pro­let­ari­at was as yet polit­ic­ally un­developed and thus “not ready to rule” the state. But for Marx the ne­ces­sity of the “dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at” was that the “work­ers must rule” polit­ic­ally in or­der to over­come cap­it­al­ism eco­nom­ic­ally and so­cially.

Marx char­ac­ter­ized Louis Bona­parte’s polit­ics as both “petit-bour­geois” and “lumpen­pro­let­ari­an,” find­ing sup­port among the broad masses of cap­it­al­ism’s dis­con­ten­ted. But ac­cord­ing to Marx their dis­con­tents could only re­pro­duce cap­it­al­ism since they could only at best join the work­ing class or re­main de­pend­ent on the real­iz­a­tion of the value of its labor as a com­mod­ity. Hence, there was no pos­sible with­draw­al from the crisis of bour­geois polit­ics and the demo­crat­ic state, as by liber­tari­ans and an­arch­ists, but the need to de­vel­op polit­ic­al power to over­come cap­it­al­ism. For the cap­it­al­ist wage-labor sys­tem with its far-reach­ing ef­fects throughout so­ci­ety to be ab­ol­ished re­quired the polit­ic­al ac­tion of the wage laborers. That the “work­ers must rule” meant that they needed to provide polit­ic­al lead­er­ship to the ex­ploited and op­pressed masses. If the or­gan­ized work­ing class did not, oth­ers would provide that lead­er­ship, as Bona­parte had done in 1848 and 1851. The means for this was the polit­ic­al party for so­cial­ism. As Lux­em­burg put it in her 1898 Stut­tgart speech:

[B]y fi­nal goal we must not mean… this or that im­age of the fu­ture state, but the pre­requis­ite for any fu­ture so­ci­ety, namely the con­quest of polit­ic­al power. This con­cep­tion of our task is closely re­lated to our con­cep­tion of cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety; it is the sol­id ground which un­der­lies our view that cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety is caught in in­sol­uble con­tra­dic­tions which will ul­ti­mately ne­ces­sit­ate an ex­plo­sion, a col­lapse, at which point we will play the role of the banker-law­yer who li­quid­ates a bank­rupt com­pany.

The so­cial­ist polit­ic­al party was for Lux­em­burg the means for this ne­ces­sary achieve­ment of polit­ic­al power. But the party was not it­self the solu­tion, but rather the ne­ces­sary mani­fest­a­tion and con­cret­iz­a­tion of the prob­lem of polit­ic­al power in cap­it­al­ism and in­deed the prob­lem of “so­ci­ety” it­self.

1905: Party and class

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Lux­em­burg took the oc­ca­sion of the 1905 Re­volu­tion in Rus­sia to cri­tique the re­la­tion of labor uni­ons and the So­cial-Demo­crat­ic Party of Ger­many (SPD) in her pamph­let on The Mass Strike, the Polit­ic­al Party, and the Trade Uni­ons (1906). This was a con­tinu­ation of Lux­em­burg’s cri­ti­cism of the re­form­ist Re­vi­sion­ist view of the re­la­tion of the eco­nom­ic and polit­ic­al struggles of the work­ing class for so­cial­ism, which had found its strongest sup­port among the labor uni­on lead­er­ship. In bring­ing to bear the Rus­si­an ex­per­i­ence in Ger­many, Lux­em­burg re­versed the usu­al as­sumed hier­archy of Ger­man ex­per­i­ence over Rus­si­an “back­ward­ness.” She also re­versed the de­vel­op­ment­al or­der of eco­nom­ic and polit­ic­al struggles, the mis­taken as­sump­tion that the eco­nom­ic must pre­cede the polit­ic­al. The “mass” or polit­ic­al strike had been as­so­ci­ated with so­cial- and polit­ic­al-his­tor­ic­al prim­it­ive­ness, with pre-in­dus­tri­al struggles and pre-Marxi­an so­cial­ism, spe­cific­ally an­arch­ism and an­archo-syn­dic­al­ism (es­pe­cially in the Lat­in coun­tries), which had pri­or­it­ized eco­nom­ic and so­cial ac­tion over polit­ic­al ac­tion. Lux­em­burg sought to grasp the changed his­tor­ic­al sig­ni­fic­ance of the polit­ic­al strike; that it had be­come, rather, a symp­tom of ad­vanced, in­dus­tri­al cap­it­al­ism. In the 1905 Rus­si­an Re­volu­tion, the work­ers had taken polit­ic­al ac­tion be­fore eco­nom­ic ac­tion, and the labor uni­ons had ori­gin­ated out of that polit­ic­al ac­tion, rather than the re­verse.

The west­ern Rus­si­an Em­pire was rap­idly in­dus­tri­al­ized and showed great so­cial un­rest in the 1890s-1900s. It ex­hib­ited the most up-to-date tech­niques and or­gan­iz­a­tion in in­dus­tri­al pro­duc­tion: The new­est and largest factor­ies in the world at this time were loc­ated in Rus­sia. Lux­em­burg was act­ive in the Rus­si­an So­cial-Demo­crat­ic Labor Party (RSDLP) in the Rus­si­an part of Po­land, through her own or­gan­iz­a­tion, the So­cial-Demo­crat­ic Party of the King­dom of Po­land and Lithuania (SDK­PiL). The 1905 Rus­si­an Re­volu­tion was pre­cip­it­ated by a polit­ic­al and not “eco­nom­ic” crisis: the shak­ing of the tsar­ist state in its los­ing war with Ja­pan 1904-1905. This was not merely a lib­er­al-demo­crat­ic dis­con­tent with the ar­bit­rary rule of the Rus­si­an ab­so­lut­ism. For Lux­em­burg, the Russo-Ja­pan­ese War was a symp­tom of cap­it­al­ism, and so was the res­ult­ing crisis of tsar­ism in Rus­sia triggered by this war. The polit­ic­al strike was, as she put it, a re­volt of “bour­geois Rus­sia,” that is, of the mod­ern in­dus­tri­al cap­it­al­ists and work­ers, against tsar­ism. What had star­ted out in the united ac­tion of the cap­it­al­ists and work­ers strik­ing eco­nom­ic­ally against the tsar­ist state for lib­er­al-demo­crat­ic polit­ic­al reas­ons, un­fol­ded in­to a class struggle by the work­ers against the cap­it­al­ists. This was due to the ne­ces­sity of re­or­gan­iz­ing so­cial pro­vi­sions dur­ing the strike, in which mass-ac­tion strike com­mit­tees took over the func­tions of the usu­al op­er­a­tions of cap­it­al­ism and in­deed of the tsar­ist state it­self. This had ne­ces­sit­ated the form­a­tion of work­ers’ own col­lect­ive-ac­tion or­gan­iz­a­tions. Lux­em­burg showed how the eco­nom­ic or­gan­iz­a­tion of the work­ers had de­veloped out of the polit­ic­al ac­tion against tsar­ism, and that the basis of this was in the ne­ces­sit­ies of ad­vanced in­dus­tri­al pro­duc­tion. In this way, the work­ers’ ac­tions had de­veloped, bey­ond the lib­er­al-demo­crat­ic or “bour­geois” dis­con­tents and de­mands, in­to the tasks of “pro­let­ari­an so­cial­ism.” Polit­ic­al ne­ces­sity had led to eco­nom­ic ne­ces­sity (rather than the re­verse, eco­nom­ic ne­ces­sity lead­ing to polit­ic­al ne­ces­sity).

For Lux­em­burg, this meant that the usu­al as­sump­tion in Ger­many that the polit­ic­al party, the SPD, was “based” on the labor uni­ons, was a pro­found mis­take. The eco­nom­ic and so­cial-co­oper­at­ive ac­tions of the uni­ons were “based,” for Lux­em­burg, on the polit­ic­al task of so­cial­ism and its polit­ic­al party. This meant pri­or­it­iz­ing the polit­ic­al ac­tion of the so­cial­ist party as the real basis or sub­stance of the eco­nom­ic and oth­er so­cial ac­tion of the work­ing class. It was the polit­ic­al goal of the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at through so­cial­ist re­volu­tion that gave ac­tu­al sub­stance to the work­ers’ eco­nom­ic struggles, which were, for Lux­em­burg, merely the ne­ces­sary pre­par­at­ory “school of re­volu­tion.”

Lux­em­burg wrote her pamph­let while sum­mer­ing at a re­treat with Len­in and oth­er Bolshev­iks in Fin­land. It was in­formed by her daily con­ver­sa­tions with Len­in over many weeks. Len­in had pre­vi­ously writ­ten, in What is to be Done? (1902) (a pamph­let com­mis­sioned and agreed-upon by the Marx­ist fac­tion of the RSDLP as a whole, those who later di­vided in­to Bolshev­iks and Men­shev­iks), that eco­nom­ism and work­er­ism in Rus­sia had found sup­port in Bern­stein­i­an Re­vi­sion­ism in the SPD and the great­er Second In­ter­na­tion­al, try­ing to sub­or­din­ate the polit­ic­al struggle to eco­nom­ic struggle and thus to sep­ar­ate them. In so do­ing, they like the Re­vi­sion­ists had iden­ti­fied cap­it­al­ist de­vel­op­ment with so­cial­ism rather than prop­erly re­cog­niz­ing them as in grow­ing con­tra­dic­tion. Len­in had, like Lux­em­burg, re­garded such work­er­ism and eco­nom­ism as “re­form­ist” in the sense of sep­ar­at­ing the work­ers’ struggles for re­form from the goal of so­cial­ism that needed to in­form such struggles. Lux­em­burg as well as Len­in called this “li­quid­a­tion­ism,” or the dis­solv­ing of the goal in­to the move­ment, li­quid­at­ing the need for the polit­ic­al party for so­cial­ism. In What is to be Done? Len­in had ar­gued for the form­a­tion of a polit­ic­al party for the work­ers’ struggle for so­cial­ism in Rus­sia. He took as po­lem­ic­al op­pon­ents those who, like the Re­vi­sion­ists in Ger­many, had depri­or­it­ized the ne­ces­sity of the polit­ic­al party, thus depri­or­it­iz­ing the polit­ics of the struggle for so­cial­ism, lim­it­ing it to eco­nom­ic ac­tion.3 The polit­ic­al party had thus re­deemed it­self in the 1905 Re­volu­tion in Rus­sia, show­ing its ne­ces­sary role for the work­ers’ polit­ic­al, so­cial, and eco­nom­ic ac­tion, con­firm­ing Len­in and Lux­em­burg’s pri­or ar­gu­ments against eco­nom­ism.

Lux­em­burg re­garded the les­sons of the 1905 Re­volu­tion in Rus­sia to be a chal­lenge to and hence a “crisis” — a po­ten­tial crit­ic­al turn­ing point — of the SPD in Ger­many. Con­tinu­ing her pro­sec­u­tion of the Re­vi­sion­ist Dis­pute, Lux­em­burg ar­gued for the con­crete ne­ces­sity of the polit­ic­al lead­er­ship of the party over the uni­ons that had been demon­strated by the 1905 Re­volu­tion in Rus­sia. By con­trast, the ten­sion and in­deed con­tra­dic­tion between the goal of so­cial­ism and the pre­ser­va­tion of the in­sti­tu­tions of the work­ers’ move­ment — spe­cific­ally of the labor uni­ons’ self-in­terest — which might be threatened by the con­ser­vat­ive re­ac­tion of the state against the polit­ic­al ac­tion of the so­cial­ist party, showed a con­flict between move­ment and goal. The Re­vi­sion­ists thought that a mass polit­ic­al strike would merely pro­voke the Right in­to a coup d’état.

De­mand for re­demp­tion

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Wal­ter Ben­jamin, in his draft theses “On the Concept of His­tory” (1940), cited Lux­em­burg in par­tic­u­lar when de­scrib­ing his­tory it­self as the “de­mand for re­demp­tion.” Not only did Lux­em­burg raise this de­mand with her fam­ous in­voc­a­tion of Marx and En­gels on the cross­roads in cap­it­al­ism of “so­cial­ism or bar­bar­ism,” but as an his­tor­ic­al fig­ure she her­self calls out for such re­demp­tion.

The con­flict in and about the party on which Lux­em­burg had fo­cused was hor­ribly re­vealed later by the out­break of war in 1914, when a ter­rible choice seemed posed, between the polit­ic­al ne­ces­sity to over­throw the Kais­er­reich state to pre­vent or stop the war, and the need to pre­serve the work­ers’ eco­nom­ic and so­cial or­gan­iz­a­tions in the uni­ons and the party. The war had been the Kais­er­reich’s pree­mpt­ive coup d’état against the SPD. The party ca­pit­u­lated to this in that it fa­cil­it­ated and jus­ti­fied the uni­ons’ as­ser­tion of their self-pre­ser­va­tion at the cost of co­oper­a­tion with the state’s war. This self-pre­ser­va­tion — what Lux­em­burg ex­cor­i­ated as try­ing to “hide like a rab­bit un­der a bush” tem­por­ar­ily dur­ing the war — may have been jus­ti­fied if these same or­gan­iz­a­tions had served later to fa­cil­it­ate the polit­ic­al struggle for so­cial­ism after the Prus­si­an Em­pire had been shaken by its loss in the war. But the SPD’s con­strain­ing of the work­ers’ struggles to pre­serve the state, lim­it­ing the Ger­man Re­volu­tion 1918-1919 to a “demo­crat­ic” one against the threat of “Bolshev­ism,” meant the party’s sup­pres­sion of its own mem­ber­ship. Past de­vel­op­ments had pre­pared this. The Re­vi­sion­ists’ pri­or­it­iz­a­tion of the move­ment and its or­gan­iz­a­tions over the goal of so­cial­ism had been con­firmed for what Lux­em­burg and Len­in had al­ways warned against: the ad­apt­a­tion and li­quid­a­tion of the work­ing class’ struggles not in­to a po­ten­tial spring­board for so­cial­ism, but rather a bul­wark of cap­it­al­ism; the trans­form­a­tion of the party from a re­volu­tion­ary in­to a coun­ter­re­volu­tion­ary force. As Lux­em­burg had so elo­quently put it in WWI, the SPD had be­come a “stink­ing corpse” — something which had through the stench of de­com­pos­i­tion re­vealed it­self to have been dead for a long time already — dead for the pur­poses of so­cial­ism. The party had killed it­self through the Dev­il’s bar­gain of sac­ri­fi­cing its true polit­ic­al pur­pose for mere self-pre­ser­va­tion.

In so do­ing, sup­posedly act­ing in the in­terests of the work­ers, the work­ers’ true in­terests — in so­cial­ism — were be­trayed. As Lux­em­burg put it in the Ju­ni­us Pamph­let, the fail­ure of the SPD at the crit­ic­al mo­ment of 1914 had placed the en­tire his­tory of the pre­ced­ing “forty years” of the struggles by the work­ers — since the found­ing of the SPD in 1875 — “in doubt.” Would this his­tory be li­quid­ated without re­demp­tion? This un­der­scored Lux­em­burg’s warn­ing, dec­ades earli­er, against dis­solv­ing the goal in­to the move­ment that would be­tray not only the goal but the move­ment it­self. Re­form­ist re­vi­sion­ism de­voured it­self. The only point of the party was its goal of re­volu­tion; without it, it was “noth­ing” — in­deed worse than noth­ing: It be­came a fes­ter­ing obstacle. The party was for Lux­em­burg not only or primar­ily the “sub­ject” but was also and es­pe­cially the ob­ject of re­volu­tion­ary struggle by the work­ing class to achieve so­cial­ism. This is why the re­volu­tion that the party had fa­cil­it­ated was for Lux­em­burg merely the be­gin­ning and not the end of the struggle to achieve so­cial­ism. The polit­ic­al prob­lem of cap­it­al­ism was mani­fest in how the party poin­ted bey­ond it­self in the re­volu­tion. But without the party, that prob­lem could nev­er even mani­fest let alone point bey­ond it­self.

Dur­ing the Ger­man Re­volu­tion — pro­voked by the col­lapse of the Kais­er­reich at the end of WWI — Lux­em­burg split and foun­ded the new Com­mun­ist Party of Ger­many (KPD), join­ing Len­in in form­ing the “Third” or Com­mun­ist In­ter­na­tion­al, in 1919: to make clear the polit­ic­al tasks that had been mani­fes­ted and ad­vanced but ul­ti­mately ab­dic­ated and failed by the so­cial-demo­crat­ic parties of the Second In­ter­na­tion­al in war and re­volu­tion. Just as Lux­em­burg and Len­in had al­ways main­tained that the polit­ic­al party for so­cial­ism was ne­ces­sary to ad­vance the con­tra­dic­tion and crisis of cap­it­al­ism as it had de­veloped from Marx’s time to their own, so it be­came ne­ces­sary in crisis to split that party and found a new one. Turn­ing the in­ter­na­tion­al war of cap­it­al­ism in­to a so­cial­ist re­volu­tion meant mani­fest­ing a civil war with­in the work­ers’ move­ment and in­deed with­in Marx­ism it­self. Where­as her former com­rades in the SPD re­coiled from her ap­par­ent re­volu­tion­ary fan­at­icism, and “saved” them­selves and their party by be­tray­ing its goal (but ul­ti­mately faded from his­tor­ic­al sig­ni­fic­ance), Lux­em­burg, as a loy­al party-mem­ber, sac­ri­ficed her­self for the goal of so­cial­ism, re­deem­ing her Marx­ism and mak­ing it pro­foundly ne­ces­sary, thus task­ing our re­mem­brance and re­cov­ery of it today. |P

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Notes


1 Se­lec­ted Polit­ic­al Writ­ings of Rosa Lux­em­burg, ed. Dick Howard (New York: Monthly Re­view Press, 1971), 38-39.
2 Quoted in Georg Lukács,“The Stand­point of the Pro­let­ari­at,” Part III of “Re­ific­a­tion and the Con­scious­ness of the Pro­let­ari­at” in His­tory and Class Con­scious­ness: Stud­ies in Marx­ist Dia­lectics (1923), trans. Rod­ney Liv­ing­stone (Cam­bridge, MA: MIT Press, 1971), 195.
3 See also my es­say “Len­in’s Lib­er­al­ism,” Platy­pus Re­view 36 (June 2011).


Marx and Engels on Karl Kautsky

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That Vladi­mir Len­in and his fel­low re­volu­tion­ar­ies of 1917 con­sidered the So­cial-Demo­crat­ic lead­er Karl Kaut­sky a ped­ant and a phil­istine is well known. Len­in pin­pointed the reas­on for Kaut­sky’s post-1914 reneg­acy in his di­lu­tion of Marxi­an dia­lectics. “How is this mon­strous dis­tor­tion of Marx­ism by the ped­ant Kaut­sky to be ex­plained…??” the Bolshev­ik asked rhet­or­ic­ally in a sec­tion of his 1918 po­lem­ic, The Pro­let­ari­an Re­volu­tion and the Reneg­ade Kaut­sky, “How Kaut­sky Turned Marx in­to a Com­mon Lib­er­al.” “As far as the philo­soph­ic­al roots of this phe­nomen­on are con­cerned,” he answered, “it amounts to the sub­sti­tu­tion of ec­lecticism and soph­istry for dia­lectics.” In an­oth­er chapter, Len­in ac­cused Kaut­sky of “pur­su­ing a char­ac­ter­ist­ic­ally petty-bour­geois, phil­istine policy [ти­пич­но ме­щан­скую, фи­лис­тер­скую по­ли­ти­ку]” by back­ing the Men­shev­iks. Need­less to say, Len­in’s im­mense re­spect for the so-called “Pope of Marx­ism” be­fore the war had all but evap­or­ated.

What is less well known, however, is that Karl Marx and Friedrich En­gels shared this ap­prais­al of Kaut­sky. But this would only be re­vealed in 1932, sev­er­al years after Len­in’s death, in ex­tracts pub­lished from their cor­res­pond­ence. En­gels con­fided to Eduard Bern­stein in Au­gust 1881 that “Kaut­sky is an ex­cep­tion­ally good chap, but a born ped­ant and hair­split­ter in whose hands com­plex ques­tions are not made simple, but simple ones com­plex.” Marx, for his part, sus­pec­ted that En­gels’ fond­ness of Kaut­sky was due to his ca­pa­city to con­sume al­co­hol, as he re­cor­ded in a note to his daugh­ter Jenny Longuet from April that same year:

[Jo­hann Most, grand­fath­er of le­gendary Bo­ston Celt­ics an­noun­cer Johnny Most,] has found a kindred spir­it in Kaut­sky, on whom he had frowned so grimly; even En­gels takes a much more tol­er­ant view of this joker [Kautz, pun­ning on Kautz-ky] since the lat­ter gave proof of his con­sid­er­able drink­ing abil­ity. When the charm­er — the little joker [Kautz], I mean — first came to see me, the first ques­tion that rose to my lips was: Are you like your moth­er? “Not in the least!” he ex­claimed, and si­lently I con­grat­u­lated his moth­er. He’s a me­diocrity, nar­row in his out­look, over-wise (only 26 years old), and a know-it-all, al­though hard-work­ing after a fash­ion, much con­cerned with stat­ist­ics out of which, however, he makes little sense. By nature he’s a mem­ber of the phil­istine tribe. For the rest, a de­cent fel­low in his own way; I un­load him onto amigo En­gels as much as I can.

Le­on Trot­sky was caught off-guard by the ca­su­istry Kaut­sky dis­played after 1914, re­mem­ber­ing the praise he had showered on the Rus­si­an work­ers’ move­ment a dec­ade or so earli­er. “Kaut­sky’s re­ac­tion­ary-pedant­ic cri­ti­cism [пе­дант­ски-ре­ак­ци­он­ная кри­ти­ка Ка­ут­ско­го] must have come the more un­ex­pec­tedly to those com­rades who’d gone through the peri­od of the first Rus­si­an re­volu­tion with their eyes open and read Kaut­sky’s art­icles of 1905-1906,” de­clared Trot­sky in his pre­face to the 1919 re­is­sue of Res­ults and Pro­spects (1906). “At that time Kaut­sky (true, not without the be­ne­fi­cial in­flu­ence of Rosa Lux­em­burg) fully un­der­stood and ac­know­ledged that the Rus­si­an re­volu­tion could not ter­min­ate in a bour­geois-demo­crat­ic re­pub­lic but must in­ev­it­ably lead to pro­let­ari­an dic­tat­or­ship, be­cause of the level at­tained by the class struggle in the coun­try it­self and be­cause of the en­tire in­ter­na­tion­al situ­ation of cap­it­al­ism… For dec­ades Kaut­sky de­veloped and up­held the ideas of so­cial re­volu­tion. Now that it has be­come real­ity, Kaut­sky re­treats be­fore it in ter­ror. He is hor­ri­fied at Rus­si­an So­viet power and thus takes up a hos­tile at­ti­tude to­wards the mighty move­ment of the Ger­man com­mun­ist pro­let­ari­at.”

Trot­sky un­der­scored this point again thir­teen years later in de­fend­ing Lux­em­burg against the calum­nies heaped upon her by Stal­in. “Len­in con­sidered Kaut­sky his teach­er [when he wrote What is to be Done?] and stressed this every­where he could. In Len­in’s work of that peri­od and for a num­ber of years fol­low­ing, one doesn’t find even a hit of cri­ti­cism dir­ec­ted against the Bebel-Kaut­sky tend­ency. One rather finds a series of de­clar­a­tions to the ef­fect that Bolshev­ism is not an in­de­pend­ent tend­ency, merely a trans­la­tion of the Bebel-Kaut­sky tend­ency in­to the lan­guage of Rus­si­an con­di­tions. Here is what Len­in wrote in his fam­ous pamph­let, Two Tac­tics, in the middle of 1905: ‘When and where have there been brought to light dif­fer­ences between me on the one hand and Bebel and Kaut­sky on the oth­er? Com­plete un­an­im­ity of in­ter­na­tion­al re­volu­tion­ary So­cial Demo­cracy on all ma­jor ques­tions of pro­gram and tac­tics is an in­con­tro­vert­ible fact.’ …But between Oc­to­ber 1916, when Len­in wrote about the Ju­ni­us pamph­let, and 1903, when Bolshev­ism had its in­cep­tion, there was a lapse of thir­teen years, dur­ing which Lux­em­burg was to be found in op­pos­i­tion to the Kaut­sky and Bebel Cent­ral Com­mit­tee, and her fight against the form­al, pedant­ic, and rot­ten-at-the-core ‘rad­ic­al­ism’ of Kaut­sky took on an ever in­creas­ingly sharp char­ac­ter.”

Just a dec­ade or so after Trot­sky penned these lines, Ad­orno wrote con­temp­tu­ously in Min­ima Mor­alia of “the so-called her­it­age of so­cial­ism and the phil­istin­ism [Ba­naus­ie] of the Bebels.” Franz Borkenau, a left com­mun­ist also as­so­ci­ated with the Frank­furt In­sti­tute of So­cial Re­search in ex­ile, re­marked upon the un­due re­spect ac­cor­ded to Kaut­sky and his ilk. Borkenau men­tioned in this con­nec­tion the dis­par­aging state­ments made by Marx and En­gels in private about their dis­ciple. In Borkenau’s 1939 over­view of World Com­mun­ism, he wrote:

Ad­mir­a­tion for West­ern Marx­ists played more than one trick on Len­in, which is re­mark­able giv­en that his rev­er­ence was spent on men who, without ex­cep­tion, were his in­feri­ors in every re­spect. Two cases are par­tic­u­larly in­ter­est­ing. One con­cerns Geor­gii Valentinovich Plekhan­ov, the man who in­tro­duced Marx­ism in its ori­gin­al form to Rus­sia. Plekhan­ov had pub­lished a num­ber of stud­ies on philo­sophy which, though one-sided, are prob­ably su­per­i­or to Len­in’s work [Borkenau is likely re­fer­ring here to Ma­ter­i­al­ism and Em­piri­ocriti­cism, since the note­books on Hegel were not widely known in the West]; as a politi­cian, though, Plekhan­ov was of no ac­count. He ended as an ex­treme par­tis­an of Men­shev­ism, openly fight­ing Len­in. Nev­er­the­less Len­in re­tained a par­tic­u­lar ad­mir­a­tion for this man the rest of his life; after all, he had brought Marx­ism to Rus­sia! But the case of Karl Kaut­sky, the of­fi­cial the­or­et­ic­al mouth­piece of Ger­man Marx­ism, is far more note­worthy. Any­one who takes the trouble to col­lect the quo­ta­tions con­cern­ing Kaut­sky in Len­in’s pre­war writ­ings will soon be con­vinced that Len­in re­garded this man as no less than an or­acle. Kaut­sky, it is true, was the de­light of that Ger­man Marx­ist left wing that so miser­ably col­lapsed in Au­gust 1914 and after. This was no reas­on for Len­in to ad­mire him, yet he did. For Len­in be­lieved as firmly in the Ger­man so­cial­ists as in Kaut­sky. The lat­ter was a man tim­id and slow in polit­ics, wooden and un­ori­gin­al in the­ory, true to the type of phil­istine who would ap­pear a the­or­eti­cian. A few mock­ing re­marks about him sur­vive in the cor­res­pond­ence of Marx and En­gels. As to the Ger­man So­cial­ist Party which Kaut­sky rep­res­en­ted, Len­in trus­ted it so firmly that when, in 1914, he learned of their vot­ing for the war cred­its he first be­lieved it to be a for­gery of the Ger­man For­eign Of­fice.

Un­for­tu­nately, the let­ters Borkenau al­ludes to here (fully ex­cerp­ted above) may have been the un­do­ing of the great schol­ar Dav­id Riazan­ov. Riazan­ov was ar­res­ted on March 6, 1931, ac­cused of con­spir­ing with the Men­shev­iks against the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at. His bril­liant as­sist­ant at the Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute, Isaak Ru­bin, a first-rate eco­nom­ic the­or­ist, gave him up after en­dur­ing sev­er­al weeks of tor­ture. Mean­while, in Mex­ico, Trot­sky wrote in­cred­u­lously about the charges leveled at Riazan­ov. On May Day, he pub­lished an art­icle, “A New Slander against Dav­id Riazan­ov.” You can read it be­low.

A new slander against David Riazan­ov

Le­on Trot­sky
The Militant
May 1, 1931
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The March 12 is­sue of Pravda pub­lished a note en­titled “Marx on Karl Kaut­sky,” signed by the “Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute.” This note sub­sequently was re­pro­duced without com­ment by the world press of the Comin­tern. On the sur­face, the cen­ter of grav­ity of this note lay in the re­mark­able pas­sage from a let­ter by Marx in 1881 which made a crush­ing char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion of Kaut­sky, a char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion which was later fully veri­fied.

The pub­lic­a­tion of the note form­ally signed by the whole in­sti­tute has, however, an­oth­er aim — to be­smirch the per­son who cre­ated and headed the Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute. This is how the note con­cludes: “The ori­gin­al let­ter was turned over to Riazan­ov by the well-known Men­shev­ik Ly­dia Zederbaum-Dan as long ago as 1925. Riazan­ov had care­fully con­cealed the let­ter.”

Dur­ing the Men­shev­ik tri­al, Riazan­ov was pub­licly ac­cused by the pro­sec­utor of col­lab­or­a­tion in the con­spir­acy against the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at. A few months after this ac­cus­a­tion, the whole world is now told of an­oth­er crime com­mit­ted by Riazan­ov. He had, it seems, in­to the bar­gain, con­cealed the quo­ta­tion from Marx’s let­ter of 1881. Their need to ad­vance such cir­cum­stances, all out of pro­por­tion to the first ac­cus­a­tion, in or­der to strengthen their case against Com­rade Riazan­ov shows that the Messrs. Ac­cusers have an un­easy con­science. These people make their dis­cov­er­ies by adding rude­ness to dis­loy­alty, only to be­tray the fra­gil­ity of their case.

We gave a hy­po­thet­ic­al ex­plan­a­tion at the time of how the ac­cus­a­tion against Riazan­ov ori­gin­ated. Everything that has been writ­ten to us from Mo­scow about this fully con­firms our sup­pos­i­tions. It is not dif­fi­cult to re­veal the mech­an­ism of the sup­ple­ment­ary ac­cus­a­tion launched today by the same ac­cusers un­der the pseud­onym of the Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute.

The “Men­shev­ik Ly­dia Zederbaum” turned over Marx’s let­ter to Riazan­ov back in 1925. Why did she give it to him? As a token of Riazan­ov’s friend­ship with the Men­shev­iks and of their fu­ture col­lab­or­a­tion in the con­spir­acy against the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at? Not a word from the “in­sti­tute” on this. The term “Men­shev­ik” ought to shut the mouth of any who hes­it­ate, es­pe­cially since Riazan­ov “care­fully con­cealed” the let­ter since 1925. Why did he con­ceal it? Ob­vi­ously in or­der to safe­guard the in­terests of Kaut­sky and world Men­shev­ism. It is true that between 1925, when Riazan­ov entered in­to a con­spir­acy with the Men­shev­iks to con­ceal the his­tor­ic doc­u­ment, and 1931, when he was in­volved in the con­spir­acy against the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at, Riazan­ov pub­lished not a few doc­u­ments and works which caused Men­shev­ism con­sid­er­able vex­a­tion. But to no avail. The read­ers of the Comin­tern press must be guided by the an­cient for­mula of the de­vout: “I be­lieve it no mat­ter how ab­surd it is.”

Good, the read­er will say, but what are the facts about the let­ter? Is it au­then­t­ic? Did Riazan­ov really hide it? And if he did, why? A look at the quo­ta­tion is enough to prove the au­then­ti­city of the let­ter: Marx can­not be fals­i­fied, even by Yaroslavsky in col­lab­or­a­tion with Ya­goda. On the ques­tion of the “con­ceal­ment” of the let­ter, we can, again, only pro­pose a hy­po­thes­is, whose like­li­hood, however, is guar­an­teed a hun­dred per­cent by all the cir­cum­stances of the case.

Riazan­ov could re­ceive the let­ter only from those who had it. The man­age­ment of the works of En­gels had fallen in­to Bern­stein’s hands by vir­tue of the same his­tor­ic­al lo­gic of the epi­gones which today per­mits Yaroslavsky to take charge of the works of Len­in. Riazan­ov dis­played ex­cep­tion­al per­sever­ance and in­genu­ity in gath­er­ing to­geth­er the writ­ings of Marx and En­gels. Like the Len­in In­sti­tute, the Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute bought nu­mer­ous doc­u­ments from the Men­shev­iks and through their in­ter­me­di­ar­ies. For ex­ample, archives were bought by the Len­in In­sti­tute from Po­tresov. Without a doubt, the “Men­shev­ik Ly­dia Zederbaum” did not simply turn over the let­ter to Riazan­ov but prob­ably sold it to him as an in­ter­me­di­ary for Bern­stein or someone among the old men who had Marx’s let­ter. It is quite likely that with the sale of this let­ter, which draws a dev­ast­at­ing pic­ture of Kaut­sky, Bern­stein or some oth­er own­er of the doc­u­ment from the same circle at­tached the con­di­tion that the let­ter not be pub­lished while Kaut­sky or the seller was alive. The rig­or­ous man­ner in which Bern­stein ap­plied this kind of cen­sor­ship over the cor­res­pond­ence of Marx and En­gels is suf­fi­ciently well known. Com­rade Riazan­ov had no al­tern­at­ive. In or­der to get pos­ses­sion of the let­ter, he was ob­liged to ac­cept the con­di­tion im­posed. Any­one else in his place would have done the same. Hav­ing ac­cep­ted this con­di­tion, he nat­ur­ally car­ried it out. Thanks to his ex­treme prudence and loy­alty in all mat­ters of this kind, Riazan­ov was able to se­cure from our ad­versar­ies pre­cious ma­ter­i­al from the her­it­age of our clas­sics.

We think it is now clear why Riazan­ov “con­cealed” the let­ter. Who­ever knows Riazan­ov knows that he, more than any­one else, must have ached to pub­lish his valu­able find. But he waited for the prop­er mo­ment to do it. By means of a raid, Marx’s let­ter was dis­covered in the pos­ses­sion of Riazan­ov. It was not only made pub­lic, thereby vi­ol­at­ing the agree­ment made by Riazan­ov, but it was then con­ver­ted in­to proof against Riazan­ov. What should we call such a pro­ced­ure? Let us call it by its right name: pro­ced­ure à la Stal­in.


Race and the Enlightenment

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I wrote a preamble to this piece relating it to a recent debate over postmodernism and Enlightenment. Since it got a bit overlong, I decided to repost as a standalone entry. But you can still read Goldner’s excellent essay on “Race and the Enlightenment” below.
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Race and the Enlightenment

Loren Goldner
Race Traitor
August 1997
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Part one
Pre-En­light­en­ment phase: Spain, Jews, and In­di­ans1
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It is not of­ten re­cog­nized that, pri­or to the sev­en­teenth and eight­eenth cen­tur­ies, the peri­od which West­ern his­tory calls the En­light­en­ment, the concept of race did not ex­ist.

It is still less of­ten re­cog­nized that the ori­gin of the concept of race, in the last quarter of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, in very spe­cif­ic so­cial cir­cum­stances, was pre­ceded by cen­tur­ies of a very dif­fer­ent vis­ion of Afric­ans2 and New World In­di­ans, which had to be erad­ic­ated be­fore the concept of race could be in­ven­ted, ex­press­ing a new so­cial prac­tice in new so­cial re­la­tions.

In the cur­rent cli­mate, in which the En­light­en­ment is un­der at­tack from many spe­cious view­points, it is im­port­ant to make it clear from the out­set that the thes­is of this art­icle is em­phat­ic­ally not that the En­light­en­ment was “ra­cist,” still less that it has valid­ity only for “white European males.” It is rather that the concept of race was not ac­ci­dent­ally born sim­ul­tan­eously with the En­light­en­ment, and that the En­light­en­ment’s “on­to­logy,” rooted in the new sci­ence of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, cre­ated a vis­ion of hu­man be­ings in nature which in­ad­vert­ently provided weapons to a new race-based ideo­logy which would have been im­possible without the En­light­en­ment. Pri­or to the En­light­en­ment, Europeans gen­er­ally di­vided the known world between Chris­ti­ans, Jews, Muslims, and “hea­thens”;3 be­gin­ning around the 1670s, they began to speak of race, and col­or-coded hier­arch­ies of races.

What was this al­tern­at­ive “epi­stem­o­lo­gic­al grid” through which, pri­or to the 1670s, the West en­countered the “Oth­er”?

Part of the an­swer is to be found in the im­pact of late me­di­ev­al heresy on the ways in which the West un­der­stood the New World, and its peoples, for more than 150 years after 1492.

One of the most im­port­ant sources of the heretic­al ideas and move­ments which ul­ti­mately des­troyed me­di­ev­al Chris­tian­ity was the Ca­lab­ri­an ab­bot, Joachim di Fiore, whose work res­on­ated through cen­tur­ies of heresy and is of­ten de­cried by de­tract­ors as a fore­run­ner of Marx­ism.4 Writ­ing at the end of the twelfth cen­tury, and sponsored by three popes, Joachim wrote a proph­et­ic vis­ion of his­tory con­sist­ing of three ages: the age of the Fath­er, which was the epoch of the Old Test­a­ment; the age of the Son, or the epoch of the New Test­a­ment, whose end was near, and the third age of the Holy Spir­it, in which all hu­man­ity would en­joy ever-last­ing saint­li­ness and bliss. The heretic­al po­ten­tial of Joachim’s his­tor­ic­al scheme was that in the third era, man­kind would tran­scend the in­sti­tu­tion of the Church it­self.

Joachim’s par­tic­u­lar in­terest for the ques­tions at hand is his later im­pact on the so-called “Spir­itu­al Fran­cis­cans.” In the thir­teenth cen­tury, in re­sponse to the pop­ular­ity of the her­es­ies, and par­tic­u­larly the Cath­ar heresy in south­ern France, the Church cre­ated two new mon­ast­ic or­ders, the Domin­ic­ans and the Fran­cis­cans, with the aim of par­ry­ing heretic­al ideas through an ap­pear­ance of re­form. Im­port­ant in the lat­ter re­gard was the “apostol­ic poverty,” the im­it­a­tion of Christ among the poor, pur­sued by the Fran­cis­cans. When, after dec­ades of suc­cess, the Fran­cis­can or­der had in turn be­come wealthy and had be­gun to in­ter­pret the vow of “apostol­ic poverty” as an “in­ner state of mind,” the Spir­itu­al Fran­cis­cans broke away to re­turn to the found­ing or­tho­doxy. Their in­terest for the ori­gins of the concept of race lies in their ab­sorp­tion of Joachim­ite ideas and their later in­flu­ence, at the end of the fif­teenth cen­tury, on Chris­toph­er Colum­bus.

Colum­bus’ di­ar­ies and Book of Proph­ecies show mes­si­an­ic pre­ten­sions of the highest or­der. It was through Colum­bus, first of all, that the proph­ecies of Joachim di Fiore passed in­to the ideo­logy of Span­ish con­quest in the New World. Pri­or to 1492, Colum­bus had lived for sev­er­al years with the Fran­cis­cans of the mon­as­tery of La Ra­bida, near Huelva, in south­west­ern Spain. Though the idea was hardly unique to Joachim, this group, in Spain, shared in the gen­er­al cru­sader con­cep­tion of the late Middle Ages that the mil­len­ni­um would be in­aug­ur­ated by the re­con­quest of Jer­u­s­alem and the Holy Land from the Muslims. The idea of the uni­fic­a­tion of the world un­der West­ern Christen­dom had already in­spired Fran­cis­can mis­sions to the Great Khan in China in the thir­teenth cen­tury with the aim of con­vert­ing China to the cru­sade against Is­lam. In the four­teenth cen­tury, a nav­ig­at­or’s guide called the Catalan At­las showed “Ethiopia” (which meant Africa) un­der the rule of the le­gendary black mon­arch Prest­er John,5 who as a Chris­ti­an was viewed as an­oth­er po­ten­tial ally against the Muslims, if only he could be found. The Por­tuguese voy­ages along the Afric­an coast after 1415 were par­tially in­spired by a mis­sion to en­list Prest­er John in such a cru­sade. Colum­bus con­ceived his own ex­ped­i­tions as an at­tempt to reach the court of the Great Khan for the same pur­pose, and he took along a sail­or flu­ent in Ar­ab­ic and Hebrew: Ar­ab­ic for the Chinese court, and Hebrew for the Lost Tribes of Is­rael, be­lieved to be liv­ing in Asia. Colum­bus may have heard of a proph­ecy, at­trib­uted to Joachim di Fiore and cur­rent among Span­ish Fran­cis­cans, that the man who would re­cap­ture the Holy Land would come from Spain.6 He did use the as­ser­tion of the Bib­lic­al Apo­crypha of Es­dras that the world was six parts land to one part wa­ter to but­tress his claim that Asia could be eas­ily reached by sail­ing west. On the third voy­age, off the mouth of the Per­n­am­buco river on the (now) Venezuelan coast, Colum­bus re­por­ted that such a large river must surely be one of the four rivers in the Garden of Eden, and was cer­tain that the ter­restri­al para­dise was close by.7

It is there­fore clear that the mes­si­an­ic ideas of Joachim and Colum­bus are, to put it mildly, from a dif­fer­ent “cos­mo­logy” than our own. However, to see their im­plic­a­tions for the ap­pear­ance of the idea of race, some his­tor­ic­al back­ground is ne­ces­sary.

In the el­ev­enth cen­tury, just be­fore the me­di­ev­al Chris­ti­an West em­barked upon the Cru­sades in its at­tempt to take the Holy Land from the Muslims, it would have been a dar­ing ob­serv­er in­deed who foresaw the rise of the West to world he­ge­mony. The West ex­is­ted in the long shad­ow of Is­lam­ic civil­iz­a­tion, which in the East­ern Medi­ter­ranean, North Africa and Spain was just reach­ing its apo­gee and else­where still ex­pand­ing vig­or­ously, and of Byz­an­ti­um (the Or­tho­dox Chris­ti­an East) which was ar­gu­ably far more the heir of Greco-Ro­man an­tiquity than semi-bar­bar­ic west­ern Europe. These civil­iz­a­tions in turn lived in the shad­ow of Sung China.

However, the el­ev­enth cen­tury me­di­ev­al West was in fact already em­barked on a so­cial, eco­nom­ic and cul­tur­al re­cov­ery and ex­pan­sion that soon posed ser­i­ous prob­lems for its more power­ful rivals. This re­cov­ery con­tin­ued un­til the late thir­teenth cen­tury, when a sys­tem of world trade already con­nec­ted Venice, Bar­celona, Flanders and the Balt­ic re­gion with the Le­vant, In­dia and China.8 By the early four­teenth cen­tury, however, the me­di­ev­al West (like much of the rest of the world) was in total crisis, cul­min­at­ing in the Black Death of 1348-1349, from which it re­quired more than a cen­tury to re­cov­er.9 Between 1358 and 1381, in the af­ter­math of the Black Death, there were ma­jor pop­u­lar up­ris­ings in France, Flanders, and Eng­land, weak­en­ing (or, in the case of Eng­land, des­troy­ing10 the old or­der of serf­dom. In Italy, in 1378, the Ci­ompi up­ris­ing in Florence was a proto-pro­let­ari­an re­bel­lion.

This four­teenth cen­tury break­down crisis cre­ated in Europe a situ­ation of “in­ter­regnum,” in which the in­sti­tu­tions of the me­di­ev­al peri­od, the Papacy, the Holy Ro­man Em­pire, and feud­al king­doms such as France and Eng­land sank in­to chaos and in­ter­min­able war; the in­ter­regnum las­ted un­til the con­sol­id­a­tion of the ab­so­lut­ist states (above all in Eng­land, France and Spain) of the six­teenth and sev­en­teenth cen­tur­ies. In­to this in­ter­regnum moved high me­di­ev­al mes­si­an­ism, mil­len­ari­an­ism and heresy.

Both be­fore, and well after, the gen­er­al break­down crisis of feud­al­ism, dur­ing the twelfth and thir­teenth cen­tury phase of high me­di­ev­al ex­pan­sion, west­ern Europe un­der­went a series of so­cial ex­plo­sions that con­tin­ued un­til the middle of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury. These her­es­ies and mil­len­ari­an move­ments ex­ten­ded from the Cath­ars in south­ern France be­gin­ning ca. 1146, to the Eng­lish Lol­lards and Bo­hemi­an Hus­sites at the end of the four­teenth cen­tury and the Ana­baptists of the Ger­man Ref­or­ma­tion in the 1520s and 1530s, to the rad­ic­al sects of the Eng­lish Re­volu­tion in the 1640s. Joachim­ite ideas of the “third age” bey­ond the Church were only one of many theo­lo­gic­al sources of these move­ments.

The Eng­lish Re­volu­tion, which reached its most rad­ic­al phase in 1648/1649, was the last ma­jor in­sur­rec­tion in which such ideo­lo­gies played a role… Fig­ures of the rad­ic­al left of the re­volu­tion, such as the Dig­ger Win­stan­ley, saw private prop­erty as the res­ult of the Fall from Para­dise, and ar­tic­u­lated a kind of Chris­ti­an com­mun­ism as the over­com­ing of the Fall. The Eng­lish Re­volu­tion was the last act of the Ref­or­ma­tion, and its rad­ic­al wing,11 the Lev­el­lers, Dig­gers, Muggleto­ni­ans, Ranters and Fifth Mon­archy Men, the last mass so­cial move­ment in which Ad­am­ic ideas of the over­com­ing of the Fall came to the fore. The com­ing of cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety was hence­forth in­creas­ingly ar­tic­u­lated in the new sec­u­lar garb of the En­light­en­ment, which began to take hold in the 1670s.12

The second, “Glor­i­ous” Re­volu­tion of 1688/1689 co­in­cided with a large jump in Eng­land’s par­ti­cip­a­tion in the new At­lantic slave eco­nomy. Pri­or to its takeover of Ja­maica in 1655, Eng­land’s New World pres­ence had been far over­shad­owed by Spain and Por­tugal, con­sist­ing only of Bar­ba­dos, St. Kitt’s, some smal­ler is­lands, and the new North Amer­ic­an colon­ies (at a time when the Carib­bean was the far big­ger eco­nom­ic prize, as it would re­main well in­to the eight­eenth cen­tury).

A mere quarter cen­tury after the elim­in­a­tion of the rad­ic­al wing of the Eng­lish Re­volu­tion by Crom­well, the idea of race, and of En­light­en­ment gen­er­ally, moved in­to the space cre­ated by the ebb of mil­len­ari­an uto­pia. It is here that we see the fi­nal dis­ap­pear­ance, ca. 1675, of the heretic­al ima­gin­a­tion and its so­cial pro­gram. With the con­sol­id­a­tion of Eng­lish con­sti­tu­tion­al mon­archy, fol­low­ing the con­sol­id­a­tion of French ab­so­lut­ism, the post-me­di­ev­al “in­ter­regnum,” in which the rad­ic­al so­cial move­ments, from the Cath­ars, by way of the Lol­lards and Hus­sites, to the Ana­baptists and Dig­gers, could still speak the lan­guage of re­li­gion, was over. This pro­cess ended just as Eng­land and France, the coun­tries par ex­cel­lence of the En­light­en­ment, were be­gin­ning to sur­pass Spain and Por­tugal in the At­lantic slave trade. To bet­ter un­der­stand what the En­light­en­ment dis­placed, it is ne­ces­sary to look more closely at the ideo­lo­gic­al world which pro­duced Colum­bus and the Span­ish world em­pire.

From an­ti­semit­ism to white su­prem­acy, 1492-1676
.

“Race,” as blood con­scious­ness, an idea un­known to an­tiquity and to the Middle Ages,13 first ap­peared in fif­teenth cen­tury an­ti­semit­ism in Spain as a new phe­nomen­on, but still en­tangled in the old “cos­mo­logy” of Chris­ti­an, Jew, Muslim, and hea­then;14 it then mi­grated to the New World in the Span­ish sub­jug­a­tion of the (“hea­then”) nat­ive Amer­ic­an pop­u­la­tion (and in the fur­ther ac­tions of the In­quis­i­tion against Jews, both in Spain and the New World). 150 years later, it re-mi­grated to the newly-emer­gent Brit­ish em­pire, which was pick­ing up the pieces of the de­cline of Span­ish power, (in part by pos­ing as a hu­mane al­tern­at­ive to the widely-be­lieved (and largely true) “black le­gend” of Span­ish cruelty). In the second half of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, with the de­feat (as in­dic­ated) of the rad­ic­al wing of the Eng­lish Re­volu­tion, the tri­umph of the sci­entif­ic re­volu­tion (above all in New­ton, and the­or­ized in­to a polit­ics by Hobbes), the bur­geon­ing Brit­ish slave trade, and the re­volu­tion of 1688, this evol­u­tion cul­min­ated in the new idea of race. The col­lapse of the idea of Adam,15 the com­mon an­cest­or of all hu­man be­ings, was an un­in­ten­ded side ef­fect of the En­light­en­ment cri­tique of re­li­gion, which was aimed first of all at the so­cial power of the Church and, after the re­li­gious wars of the six­teenth and sev­en­teenth cen­tur­ies, at re­li­gion gen­er­ally. But it was also the ne­ces­sary “epi­stem­o­lo­gic­al” pre­lude to the ap­pear­ance, in the last quarter of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, of a col­or coded hier­archy of races. Locke drove out Habakkuk, as Marx said, and Hobbes drove out Shem, Ham, and Japh­eth.16

In the wan­ing phase of more than 200 years of Anglo-Amer­ic­an dom­in­ance of world cap­it­al­ism, it is easy to for­get that Eng­land was a re­l­at­ive late­comer in the 500 years of West­ern he­ge­mony, and the sig­ni­fic­ance of that late­comer status for ideo­logy. The im­pulse, con­di­tioned by the Anglo-French En­light­en­ment, to over­look the en­twin­ing of the En­light­en­ment and ra­cism, is part of the same im­pulse that down­plays the sig­ni­fic­ance of pre-En­light­en­ment de­vel­op­ments in Spain in shap­ing the mod­ern world.

The ini­tial European ex­per­i­ence of proto-ra­cism17 was the ap­pear­ance of high me­di­ev­al an­ti­semit­ism, where it had largely re­ceded dur­ing the lower Middle Ages (sixth-el­ev­enth cen­tur­ies). Eng­land ex­pelled its Jews in 1290; France did the same in 1305, and Spain, where Jews had prospered for cen­tur­ies un­der both Muslim and Chris­ti­an rule, ex­pelled them in 1492.18 It is in­ter­est­ing to note that this new19 an­ti­semit­ism came in­to ex­ist­ence at the time of in­cip­i­ent na­tion­al con­scious­ness20 and also on the eve21 of the feud­al break­down crisis; the ac­cel­er­at­ing trans­form­a­tion of “Chris­ti­an king­doms” in­to na­tions eroded the older, tol­er­ated cit­izen­ship of Jews (and, in Spain, also Muslims) based on re­li­gious iden­ti­fic­a­tion, of­ten linked to re­l­at­ive self-ad­min­is­tra­tion with­in the con­fines of the ghetto. In the Eng­lish, French and Span­ish22 cases, (the three ma­jor European coun­tries which con­sol­id­ated na­tion­al mon­arch­ies by the late fif­teenth cen­tury, and de­veloped ab­so­lut­isms in the six­teenth and sev­en­teenth cen­tur­ies) the ex­pul­sion of the Jews was also of­ten a pre­text for the con­fis­ca­tion of wealth by the heav­ily-in­debted mon­arch­ies (of­ten in­debted to Jew­ish money-lenders, as Chris­ti­ans were at least the­or­et­ic­ally pro­scribed from char­ging in­terest). In deeply-frag­men­ted Ger­many and Italy, on the oth­er hand, where early mod­ern na­tion­al uni­fic­a­tion was blocked by the me­di­ev­al leg­acy of the Holy Ro­man Em­pire and the Papacy, Jew­ish ex­pul­sion was a loc­al and sporad­ic phe­nomen­on, and Italy re­ceived many Jews ex­pelled from Spain. Thus the cor­rel­a­tion between an­ti­semit­ism and the new na­tion­al con­scious­ness (the lat­ter, like race it­self, be­ing un­known in the an­cient or me­di­ev­al worlds23 is one com­pel­ling reas­on to see the ap­pear­ance of ra­cism as a byproduct of early mod­ern de­vel­op­ments.24

In fif­teenth cen­tury Spain, an­ti­semit­ism moved from a late-me­di­ev­al “com­mun­al” phe­nomen­on to a mod­ern ideo­logy of blood con­scious­ness, and it is here that the dif­fer­ence between the one and the oth­er is clearest. But Spain (which ac­tu­ally was still di­vided between the two ma­jor king­doms of Ar­agon and Castile un­til 1469) was pre­oc­cu­pied for cen­tur­ies with the cru­sade to re­con­quer the Iberi­an pen­in­sula from the Muslims, a cru­sade which was only com­pleted with the fall of Granada in 1492. The In­quis­i­tion began its activ­it­ies in Spain in 1478, and its tar­gets were first of all Jews and sus­pec­ted mar­ranos, or Jews con­ver­ted to be­come “new Chris­ti­ans” and en­gaged in clandes­tine prac­tice of the old ways.

The found­a­tions of the Span­ish em­pire in the New World were laid un­der the so-called Cath­ol­ic kings, Ferdin­and and Isa­bel, the spon­sors of Colum­bus. But in 1519, through dyn­ast­ic mar­riage, the already power­ful Span­ish em­pire be­came the ad­min­is­trat­ive cen­ter of the largest West­ern em­pire since Rome, the Holy Ro­man Em­pire of the Habs­burg Charles V. To the already con­sid­er­able Span­ish lands were ad­ded the Habs­burg do­mains in cent­ral Europe, and the Neth­er­lands, and after 1527 two-thirds of Italy fell un­der Span­ish domin­ion. The Habs­burg world em­pire was the he­ge­mon of European polit­ics, in­volving it­self dir­ectly in the in­tern­al af­fairs of all coun­tries (such as France, Eng­land, and Scot­land) it did not dir­ectly con­trol. With the mar­riage of Henry VIII to Cath­er­ine of Ar­agon, (aunt of Charles V), it ap­peared briefly that Eng­land as well might be in­teg­rated by dyn­ast­ic al­li­ances in­to the Habs­burg sphere. With the mar­riage of Philip II to Mary Tu­dor, Eng­lish queen from 1553 to 1558, this ap­peared even more likely, ex­pressed first of all in an ex­po­nen­tial in­crease in the per­se­cu­tion of Prot­est­ants.

European power polit­ics, in­clud­ing polit­ics in the New World, for more than 150 years after 1492 re­volved around the rivalry between Spain and France, a rivalry ul­ti­mately won by France by the middle of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury. This his­tory can hardly be sketched here, but it must be kept in mind that Eng­land, in 1492 and for a long time there­after, was a second-tier power un­der­go­ing the so­cial trans­form­a­tion that cul­min­ated, after 1688, in the over­throw of ab­so­lut­ism, and did not be­gin ser­i­ous em­pire build­ing un­til the 1620s, and really not un­til the 1650s, when the re­volu­tion had ebbed. The story of re­la­tions between Spain and Eng­land, from 1530 on­ward, be­came com­pletely en­meshed in the in­ter­na­tion­al polit­ics of the Prot­est­ant Ref­or­ma­tion, (which con­stantly reached in­to do­mest­ic polit­ics), and re­mained in­to the sev­en­teenth cen­tury the story of Eng­land’s at­tempt to es­cape the or­bit of the Span­ish em­pire. Cath­ol­ic mon­archs such as Mary Tu­dor (1553-1558) and the Stu­arts after 1603 were con­sidered “Span­ish” and “Pap­ist,”25 and were the tar­gets of pop­u­lar re­sent­ment for that reas­on. Eng­land raided Span­ish ship­ping, sent ex­plor­a­tions look­ing for the myth­ic­al North­w­est Pas­sage to Asia26 (and thereby began ser­i­ous trade in the Balt­ic and with Rus­sia) aided the Dutch re­bel­lion against Spain after 1566 and fought off the Ar­mada of Philip II in 1588, but the Eng­lish man­aged to avoid in­volve­ment in the on­go­ing Franco-Span­ish wars on the con­tin­ent, and only after emer­ging from the first phase of its re­volu­tion (1640-1649) was it able to in­trude boldly in­to the scramble for em­pire with its massive re­pres­sion in Ire­land, in its three suc­cess­ful wars against the Dutch, and its cap­ture of Ja­maica. Thus Eng­land’s ser­i­ous chal­lenge to Span­ish (and Dutch) power in the New World and in the slave trade began only in the mid-sev­en­teenth cen­tury, after the tur­moil of its (first) re­volu­tion, when the slave trade, though already con­sid­er­able, was non­ethe­less only one-fourth of the volume it reached in the eight­eenth cen­tury, un­der Anglo-French as­cend­ancy.27 Only after the over­throw of the Stu­arts in 1688 (by which time France had re­placed Spain as the ma­jor Cath­ol­ic power), and Eng­lish suc­cesses in the Nine Years’ War (1689-1697) and the war of the Span­ish Suc­ces­sion (1701-1713, fought to pre­vent a united Franco-Span­ish — and Cath­ol­ic — dyn­asty un­der the con­trol of Louis XIV) could Eng­land feel it­self se­cure from Span­ish and “Pap­ist” in­ter­fer­ence in its in­tern­al polit­ics.28

It is this Anglo-Span­ish en­tan­gle­ment, over­lap­ping the Ref­or­ma­tion and Counter-Ref­or­ma­tion wars, the ul­ti­mate de­feat of Eng­lish ab­so­lut­ism, and the Eng­lish, French, Dutch and Span­ish rivalry for world dom­in­a­tion which “me­di­ate” between the ap­pear­ance of the first ideas of ra­cial pur­ity and blood con­scious­ness in fif­teenth cen­tury Span­ish an­ti­semit­ism, their ex­ten­sion to the in­hab­it­ants of the New World, and the full ar­tic­u­la­tion of a race the­ory in the Anglo-French En­light­en­ment. It is through this his­tory that Jews, In­di­ans and Afric­ans are the suc­cess­ive “Oth­ers” in the de­vel­op­ment of a full-fledged West­ern ra­cial doc­trine.

The 1492 ex­pul­sion of the Jews from Spain cre­ated a massive Jew­ish di­a­spora in Por­tugal,29 North Africa, Italy, the Neth­er­lands, the Ot­to­man em­pire, and ul­ti­mately in the New World.30 But even more sig­ni­fic­ant, for our pur­poses, were the large-scale con­ver­sions of Jews in­to so-called “New Chris­ti­ans,” con­ver­sions which al­lowed Jews to re­main in Spain and Por­tugal, while still leav­ing them vul­ner­able to the In­quis­i­tion and the blood pur­ity laws.31 The New Chris­ti­ans were there­fore able not only to ar­rive in the New World in dif­fer­ent mon­ast­ic or­ders such as the Fran­cis­cans, Domin­ic­ans and Je­suits; they were prob­ably in­volved in the bet­ter part of the Span­ish high cul­ture of the six­teenth cen­tury siglo de oro.32 Fi­nally, Jew­ish mes­si­an­ic ideas, mixed with such cur­rents as the Joachim­ite mil­len­ari­an­ism dis­cussed earli­er, filtered in­to the Chris­ti­an com­mun­ist uto­pi­as which some re­li­gious or­ders, above all the Fran­cis­cans,33 at­temp­ted to build in the New World with the in­di­gen­ous peoples sub­jug­ated by the Span­ish and Por­tuguese em­pires. The most no­tori­ous were the Spir­itu­al Fran­cis­cans in Mex­ico, who came to the con­clu­sion that Europe was too dec­ad­ent for their ideal of “apostol­ic poverty,” learned Nahuatl and planned a com­mun­ist uto­pia with the In­di­ans, un­til they were dis­covered and repressed by the Church,34 but sim­il­ar mes­si­an­ic uto­pi­as were ad­voc­ated or en­acted by the Je­suits in Peru and Paraguay, or in the proph­et­ic ser­mons of the Je­suit Ant­o­nio Vie­ira in Brazil.35

One should not ideal­ize these cur­rents, nor ex­ag­ger­ate their weight in the Span­ish and Por­tuguese co­lo­ni­al em­pires, but neither should they be judged with ana­chron­ist­ic cri­ter­ia of the present. They were all crushed, de­feated or mar­gin­al­ized by the op­pos­i­tion of loc­al colon elites with no scruples about mas­sacre and forced labor.36 They did not ques­tion the evan­gel­iz­a­tion of the New World, nor the em­pires them­selves, nor did they doubt that Chris­tian­ity was the unique Truth; few thought that they had any­thing to learn from in­di­gen­ous cos­mo­lo­gies.37 No one in the six­teenth cen­tury, from either the Chris­ti­an or Muslim Medi­ter­ranean world, where slavery had been prac­ticed (without a col­or code) for cen­tur­ies, called slavery as an in­sti­tu­tion in­to ques­tion,38 and they were no dif­fer­ent. They sought the sup­port of the mon­archs to curb the cruelty of the loc­al elites, a sup­port which, when ob­tained, mainly re­mained a dead let­ter in prac­tice. The point is rather that their mes­si­an­ic uto­pi­as did in­clude In­di­ans and Afric­ans and that their eth­no­cen­trism was uni­ver­sal­ist in the me­di­ev­al mono­the­ist sense of Chris­ti­an/Jew­ish/Muslim vs. hea­then, not yet a ra­cial doc­trine.

An im­port­ant trans­ition from the era of Span­ish and Por­tuguese dom­in­ance in the six­teenth cen­tury to the emer­gence of north­ern European (Eng­lish, French, and Dutch) em­pires and con­trol of the slave trade in the sev­en­teenth cen­tury is the be­lief that the New World in­hab­it­ants were des­cend­ants of the “lost tribes” of Is­rael. It is here that the con­nec­tion is made between the Span­ish ex­pul­sion of the Jews, the di­a­spora of Jews and New Chris­ti­ans in dif­fer­ent New World projects, and the ul­ti­mate ap­pear­ance of the En­light­en­ment doc­trine of race.

The en­counter with the New World shook European cul­ture after 1492 as pro­foundly as the Co­per­nic­an re­volu­tion after 1543, if not more so. The flood of cos­mo­graphy, travel ac­counts, new plants and an­im­als, and above all pre­vi­ously un­known peoples and cul­tures stretched the doors of per­cep­tion past the break­ing point. Europe had no­tions, however fant­ast­ic, of the Old World civil­iz­a­tions such as Is­lam, In­dia and China; it had no­tions, however fant­ast­ic, of an­cient Egypt, and the em­pires of Al­ex­an­der and the Caesars; it had with­in its own bor­ders Celts, Slavs and oth­er peoples whose ex­ist­ence con­verged on vari­ous cur­rent ideas of the “prim­it­ive.” Even en­coun­ter­ing peoples such as the Aztecs, May­ans and In­cas, however exot­ic they may have seemed,39 still did not chal­lenge a concept of “civil­iz­a­tion” they knew from Old World ex­per­i­ence. But noth­ing they could mine from tra­di­tion quite pre­pared them for the en­counter with “prim­it­ives,” “peoples without the state,” in the Carib­bean, the Amazon or later in North Amer­ica. To situ­ate such peoples for them­selves, they could only draw on the legacies of the two strands of Greco-Ro­man clas­si­cism and Judeo-Chris­ti­an mono­the­ism. Colum­bus, as was in­dic­ated earli­er, knew at the mouth of the Per­n­am­buco in 1498 that he was near the garden of Eden, and for more than 150 years Europeans would de­bate wheth­er the New World peoples were the Lost Tribes of Is­rael, the des­cend­ants of Ham, the Canaan­ites, the in­hab­it­ants of the Bib­lic­al Ophir, des­cend­ants of a Phoen­i­cian voy­age, the sur­viv­ors of lost At­lantis, the des­cend­ants of Gog and Magog, or the peoples of King Ar­thur’s is­land of Avalon.40 The Renais­sance had for half a cen­tury be­fore the dis­cov­er­ies been ex­cav­at­ing a vast lode of the lost, or half-bur­ied leg­acy of clas­sic­al an­tiquity; the heretic­al cur­rents which pre­pared the way for the Ref­or­ma­tion had been re­viv­ing the idea (against the whole weight of the Church) of the “ori­gin­al com­munity” and the “apostol­ic poverty” of Christ and the dis­ciples, and this mass of cul­tur­al memory came rising to the sur­face, like a sunken cathed­ral, just in time to provide the “ima­gin­a­tion” for the en­counter with a pre­vi­ously un­known con­tin­ent. When, 150 years later, the new tools of sci­entif­ic and ra­tion­al cri­tique had turned the battle of the “an­cients and the mod­erns” in fa­vor of the lat­ter, and had des­troyed this “epi­stem­o­lo­gic­al grid” provided by tra­di­tion, the West could in­vent the pseudos­cientif­ic idea of race.

The the­ory that the in­hab­it­ants of the New World were des­cend­ants of the “lost tribes of Is­rael” is, once again, the link between an­ti­semit­ism in Spain and the be­gin­nings of race the­ory in the rising Eng­lish, French and Dutch world em­pires of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury. Europe had the his­tor­ic­al ex­per­i­ence of Afric­ans; the new race the­ory first emerged out of the de­bate about the In­di­ans. The “lost tribes” the­ory was first ar­tic­u­lated by vari­ous Span­ish writers on the New World in the six­teenth cen­tury, and, as in­dic­ated, some of the Fran­cis­can New Chris­ti­ans were struck by Old Test­a­ment par­al­lels in Aztec cul­ture.41 But the the­ory first cre­ated a sen­sa­tion when sys­tem­at­ized by the Am­s­ter­dam rabbi Menas­seh ben Is­rael (a mar­rano and teach­er of Spinoza) in his 1650 book Es­per­anza de Is­rael [Hope of Is­rael].

Menas­seh’s book told of a Jew­ish trav­el­er in South Amer­ica who was con­vinced that there were Hebrew words in the lan­guage of his In­di­an guide, and who con­cluded from con­ver­sa­tion with the guide that “a lost tribe of Is­rael­ites still lived in the South Amer­ic­an high­land,”42 and there­fore went to meet them. The trav­el­ler re­turned to Am­s­ter­dam and told his tale to Menas­seh ben Is­rael, where its mes­si­an­ic over­tones in 1648 fit in­to the over­all apo­ca­lyptic cli­mate of the end of the Thirty Years’ War, the most rad­ic­al phase of the Eng­lish re­volu­tion (where the Fifth Mon­archy Men were at the peak of their in­flu­ence), and a massive pogrom against Jews in the Ukraine.43 Menas­seh’s book came to the at­ten­tion of Crom­well, who met him in 1655 to con­sider the read­mis­sion of Jews to Eng­land,44 which began the fol­low­ing year.

But in the very year of Menas­seh’s meet­ing with Crom­well, an­oth­er book ap­peared in Europe that marked the fi­nal phase of the pre-En­light­en­ment de­bate on the mean­ing of the New World peoples. This was Isaac La Peyrere’s Pre-Ad­am­it­ae [The Pre-Ad­am­ites].45 Us­ing the most ad­vanced meth­ods of the new Bib­lic­al cri­ti­cism, La Peyrere’s book seized on in­tern­al in­con­sist­en­cies in scrip­ture to ar­gue that the Bible it­self proves that there were people be­fore Adam. For La Peyrere this meant the over­throw of the Bible’s mono­gen­et­ic ex­plan­a­tion of the ori­gins of hu­man­ity (and there­fore of the peoples of the New World), and the truth of a poly­gen­et­ic view of mul­tiple ori­gins. La Peyrere’s book was de­nounced all over Europe by Cath­ol­ics, Prot­est­ants and Jews. (No one dared to de­fend it pub­licly un­til Voltaire, a cen­tury later, and he was still an isol­ated voice). La Peyrere was ar­res­ted a few months after Pre-Ad­am­it­ae ap­peared, was threatened with the gravest con­sequences, and had to con­vert to Cath­oli­cism and go to Rome to per­son­ally apo­lo­gize to the Pope to ex­culp­ate him­self.46 Nev­er­the­less, his book be­came pop­u­lar with the rad­ic­al mi­lieus of the peri­od, such as the rem­nants of the de­feated left wing of the Eng­lish Re­volu­tion. The Dig­ger Ger­ard Win­stan­ley, like many oth­ers, saw in Pre-Ad­am­it­ae sup­port for a com­pletely al­leg­or­ic­al read­ing of the Bible.47

La Peyrere’s book had been dar­ingly rad­ic­al Bible cri­ti­cism in the mid-sev­en­teenth cen­tury, and he saw all peoples, Ad­am­ites and pre-Ad­am­ites, saved in the mes­si­an­ic re­cap­ture of Jer­u­s­alem. But oth­ers seized on his de­moli­tion of the au­thor­ity of the mono­gen­et­ic ac­count in scrip­ture and used it to jus­ti­fy the newly-emer­ging ra­cist col­or code. In 1680, in Vir­gin­ia, the min­is­ter Mor­gan God­win, in a work called Negro’s and In­di­ans Ad­voc­ate, po­lem­i­cized against people in the Amer­ic­an colon­ies who were us­ing poly­gen­et­ic ar­gu­ments in­flu­enced by La Peyrere to deny that blacks and In­di­ans were hu­man. In 1774, Ed­ward Long’s His­tory of Ja­maica used poly­gen­et­ic the­ory to pre­cisely this end. In 1844, Al­ex­an­der von Hul­mboldt, the Ger­man sci­ent­ist, ar­gued in the first volume of his book Kos­mos that it was ne­ces­sary to up­hold the mono­gen­et­ic the­ory against evid­ence “as the safe means of avoid­ing clas­si­fy­ing people as su­per­i­or and in­feri­or.”

The death of Adam, to­geth­er with the de­feat of the Eng­lish rad­ic­als, had by the 1650s closed the Joachim­ite cycle, and ended the de­bate that had be­gun in 1492. The tri­umph of the mod­erns over the an­cients meant that the mod­els and the “epi­stem­o­lo­gic­al grid” of both Greco-Ro­man clas­si­cism and Judeo-Chris­ti­an mes­si­an­ism were ex­ploded, either for in­ter­pret­ing new peoples or for in­ter­pret­ing the mo­tion of bod­ies in space. The epi­cen­ter of the West was now the Anglo-French rivalry for world em­pire. The first phase of polit­ic­al eco­nomy began, and one of its first prac­ti­tion­ers, Sir Wil­li­am Petty, wrote the first known treat­ises pro­pos­ing a world hier­archy of races, The Scale of Creatures (1676). Petty groped to­ward the defin­i­tion of an “in­ter­me­di­ate stage” between man and an­im­al, in which he could loc­ate the “sav­age”:

Of man it­self there seems to be sev­er­al spe­cies, To say noth­ing of Gy­ants & Pyg­mies or of that sort of small men who have little speech… For of these sorts of men, I ven­ture to say noth­ing, but that ’tis very pos­sible there may be Races and gen­er­a­tions of such…48 …there be oth­ers [dif­fer­ences — L.G.] more con­sid­er­able, that is, between the Guiny Negroes & the Middle Europeans; & of Negroes between those of Guiny and those who live about the Cape of Good Hope, which last are the Most beast­like of all the Souls (?Sorts) of Men whith whom our Trav­el­lers arre well ac­quain­ted. I say that the Europeans do not only dif­fer from the afore­men­tioned Afric­ans in Col­lour…but also…in Nat­ur­all Man­ners, & in the in­tern­all Qual­it­ies of their Minds.49

Here were the unanti­cip­ated ex­tra­pol­a­tions of La Peyrere’s rad­ic­al Bib­lic­al cri­ti­cism. Here is one of the founders of polit­ic­al eco­nomy also found­ing an un­pre­ced­en­ted col­or-coded world hier­archy of races. A truly mod­ern fig­ure, in­deed. Hence­forth, as the At­lantic slave trade rose ex­po­nen­tially to its eight­eenth cen­tury peak, the nat­ur­al­ist­ic world view of the En­light­en­ment could im­pose it­self, sadly tied in so many cases to such an “epi­stem­o­lo­gic­al grid.”50 The New World In­di­an was no longer a pos­sible des­cend­ant of the Lost Tribes; rather, as the Pur­it­ans said, “Satan had pos­sessed the In­di­an un­til he be­came vir­tu­ally a beast.” Where there had once been the king­dom of Prest­er John, there now was only the Guinea coast, the Bight of Ben­in and the Middle Pas­sage.

Hence­forth, the concept of race could be in­ven­ted.

Part two
The Anglo-French En­light­en­ment and bey­ond
.

The an­im­al is im­me­di­ately one with its life activ­ity, nor dis­tinct from it. The an­im­al is its life activ­ity. Man makes his life activ­ity it­self in­to an ob­ject of will and con­scious­ness. It is not a de­term­in­a­tion with which he im­me­di­ately iden­ti­fies. [The an­im­al] pro­duces in a one-sided way while man pro­duces uni­ver­sally… The an­im­al only pro­duces it­self while man re­pro­duces the whole of nature.

— Karl Marx, 1844

They en­slaved the Negro, they said, be­cause he was not a man, and when he be­haved like a man they called him a mon­ster.

— CLR James, The Black Jac­obins (1938)

The only race is the rat race.

— wall graf­fiti, Lon­don ri­oters, 1981

.
The West­ern51 in­ven­tion of the idea of race in the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, at the be­gin­ning of the En­light­en­ment, was not merely a de­grad­a­tion of the peoples of col­or to whom it was ap­plied.52 Such a de­grad­a­tion had to be pre­ceded, and ac­com­pan­ied, by a com­par­able de­grad­a­tion of the view of man with­in West­ern cul­ture it­self. A so­ci­ety that sees the ra­cial “Oth­er” in terms of an­im­al­ity must first ex­per­i­ence that an­im­al­ity with­in it­self. “If you’re go­ing to keep someone in the gut­ter,” as a black act­iv­ist of the six­ties put it, “you’re go­ing to be down there with them.”

Part one showed how ra­tion­al­ist Bib­lic­al cri­ti­cism in the mid-sev­en­teenth cen­tury tore away the last of the myths, drawn from Greco-Ro­man clas­si­cism and Judeo-Chris­ti­an mes­si­an­ism, which pur­por­ted to ex­plain the ori­gins of the New World In­di­ans in terms of tra­di­tions then known to Europeans. This cri­tique un­in­ten­tion­ally left in its wake a new, purely bio­lo­gic­al vis­ion of “nat­ur­al man” which, in some in­stances (such as the North Amer­ic­an colon­ies), fused with the new white su­prem­acist col­or-code jus­ti­fy­ing the At­lantic slave trade, and the pre­vi­ously un­known idea of race, the iden­ti­fic­a­tion of cul­tur­al at­trib­utes with phys­ic­al fea­tures such as skin col­or, was born.

It is now ne­ces­sary to situ­ate the En­light­en­ment between what pre­ceded it and what fol­lowed it, in or­der to see how it got caught up in this defin­i­tion of hu­man be­ings as an­im­als, which un­der­lies any as­so­ci­ation of cul­tur­al at­trib­utes with skin col­or or phys­ic­al fea­tures. As stated in Part One, the En­light­en­ment as such is neither in­her­ently ra­cist nor val­id only for “white European males.” But the En­light­en­ment today can­not be de­fen­ded merely in terms of the En­light­en­ment alone. Its lim­ited ra­tion­al­ity can only be ad­equately un­der­stood and seen in true pro­por­tion by those who see a high­er ra­tion­al­ity. The best of the En­light­en­ment, taken by it­self, is dis­armed against the worst of the En­light­en­ment.

An ideo­logy is best un­der­stood when seen against the back­ground from which it began, and against the fu­ture in which it will end.

The view of hu­man be­ings as an­im­als is in­sep­ar­able from the birth of bour­geois and cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety, which sim­ul­tan­eously gave rise to two in­ter­re­lated ques­tions which that so­ci­ety has nev­er solved, and will nev­er solve: the ques­tion of the pro­let­ari­at, and the ques­tion of the un­der­developed world. (By “an­im­al­ity” in this art­icle I mean what Marx meant in the above quote: someone — i.e., a wage laborer — com­pelled by so­ci­ety to identi­fy them­selves with their life activ­ity. From this fun­da­ment­al de­grad­a­tion flow oth­ers, namely com­puls­ory iden­ti­fic­a­tion by any pre­sum­ably “fixed” “nat­ur­al” qual­ity, such as skin col­or, gender, or sexu­al ori­ent­a­tion.)

The philo­soph­ic­ally-dis­in­clined read­er is asked to bear with the fol­low­ing, for in a cri­tique of the En­light­en­ment, it is ne­ces­sary to first set up the ques­tion philo­soph­ic­ally. Ideas by them­selves of course do not make his­tory. To go bey­ond the idea of race — the con­nec­tion between bio­logy and cul­tur­al at­trib­utes which, for one strand of the En­light­en­ment, suc­ceeded me­di­ev­al re­li­gious iden­tit­ies — the mere idea of the hu­man race would be suf­fi­cient. But be­fore loc­at­ing these ques­tions in the bal­ance of real so­cial forces where they are ac­tu­ally de­cided, it is ne­ces­sary to know what the ques­tions are. Once they are posed, it will be clear why the im­me­di­ate at­ti­tudes on race and slavery of this or that En­light­en­ment thinker are not the real is­sue; the is­sue is rather the view of man of even the best of the En­light­en­ment which is ul­ti­mately dis­armed for a cri­tique of its bas­tard off­spring.

The new so­ci­ety which arose out of the col­lapse of feud­al­ism in early mod­ern, pre-En­light­en­ment Europe, between 1450 and 1650, was re­volu­tion­ary re­l­at­ive to any preex­ist­ing or then-con­tem­por­ary so­ci­ety. Why? It was re­volu­tion­ary be­cause it con­nec­ted the idea of hu­man­ity to the new idea of an “ac­tu­al in­fin­ity.”53

What does this mean? In so­cial terms, “in­fin­ity” in class so­ci­et­ies pri­or to cap­it­al­ism is the world of cre­ativ­ity, e.g. art, philo­sophy, sci­ence, usu­ally mono­pol­ized by an elite, as well as im­prove­ments in the so­ci­ety’s re­la­tion­ship to nature, first in ag­ri­cul­ture and then else­where, usu­ally made by skilled crafts­men. “In­fin­ity” here means in­nov­a­tions that al­low a so­ci­ety to re­pro­duce it­self at a high­er level, by cre­at­ing more “free sur­plus” for its mem­bers, or cul­tur­al in­nov­a­tion that an­ti­cip­ates or ex­presses those im­prove­ments in hu­man free­dom. (The word “in­fin­ite” is ap­pro­pri­ate be­cause the elasti­city of these in­nov­a­tions is in­fin­ite.) These im­prove­ments in a so­ci­ety’s re­la­tion­ship to nature are uni­ver­sal and world-his­tor­ic­al, be­gin­ning with stone and bronze tools, and so­ci­et­ies that fail to make them run up against “nat­ur­al bar­ri­ers” (known today as “eco­logy crises”) to their ex­ist­ence and either stag­nate or are des­troyed, of­ten by oth­er so­ci­et­ies. This free­dom in their re­la­tion­ship to nature through such im­prove­ments is what dis­tin­guishes hu­man be­ings from an­im­als, which mainly do not “use tools” but which “are” tools (e.g. beavers, ter­mites) in a fixed re­la­tion­ship to their en­vir­on­ment.

Such im­prove­ments, once again, have oc­curred many times and in many places throughout hu­man his­tory. But his­tory is also filled with ex­amples of bril­liant civil­iz­a­tions (such as Tang or par­tic­u­larly Sung China) where many such in­nov­a­tions were lost in blocked stag­na­tion or ter­rible so­cial ret­ro­gres­sion. What was re­volu­tion­ary about the bour­geois so­ci­ety which first ap­peared in Europe, ini­tially in north­ern Italy and in Flanders ca. 1100, was that these in­nov­a­tions were in­sti­tu­tion­al­ized at the cen­ter of so­cial life,54 as ne­ces­sity. For the first time in his­tory, a prac­tic­al bridge was po­ten­tially es­tab­lished between the cre­at­ive free­dom, pre­vi­ously re­stric­ted to small elites, and so­ci­ety’s im­prove­ments in its re­la­tion­ship to nature.

It was this in­sti­tu­tion­al­iz­a­tion which made pos­sible the ap­pear­ance of “ac­tu­al in­fin­ity.” In the an­cient (Greco-Ro­man) and me­di­ev­al worlds, “in­fin­ity” was ex­pressed in a lim­ited way. The Greco-Ro­man elite had ar­is­to­crat­ic val­ues, and con­sidered any re­la­tion­ship to ma­ter­i­al pro­duc­tion55 to be ut­terly be­neath it­self, an at­ti­tude which meshed well with a “hor­ror of the in­fin­ite” of­ten ex­pressed in their ideo­logy. Me­di­ev­al philo­sophy — largely shaped by Ar­is­totle in Chris­ti­an, Muslim, and Jew­ish thought — gen­er­ally con­sidered an “ac­tu­al in­fin­ity” to be an ab­om­in­a­tion, of­ten as­so­ci­ated with blas­phemy. It was ex­actly this “blas­phemy” which was de­veloped in the early mod­ern peri­od of cap­it­al­ism by Nich­olas of Cusa, Giord­ano Bruno, Baruch Spinoza, and Gottfried Wil­helm Leib­n­iz.

While these fig­ures de­veloped the concept of ac­tu­al in­fin­ity in theo­lo­gic­al or philo­soph­ic­al terms, pri­or to the En­light­en­ment, its im­plic­a­tions for the ap­pear­ance of the concept of race can best be un­der­stood by look­ing ahead to its fur­ther de­vel­op­ment, in so­cial terms, after the En­light­en­ment, from Kant via Hegel and Feuerbach to Marx. Hegel called En­light­en­ment (New­to­ni­an) in­fin­ity “bad in­fin­ity.” The prac­tic­al real­iz­a­tion of pre-En­light­en­ment ac­tu­al in­fin­ity by Marx ret­ro­spect­ively cla­ri­fies the im­passe (and so­cial rel­ev­ance) of En­light­en­ment bad in­fin­ity, without an even longer philo­soph­ic­al de­tour.

Many people know Marx’s quip that com­mun­ist man “will fish in the morn­ing, hunt in the af­ter­noon, and write cri­ti­cism in the even­ing, without for all that be­ing a fish­er­man, hunter or crit­ic.” But the un­der­ly­ing the­or­et­ic­al mean­ing of that quip is not of­ten grasped; it is usu­ally un­der­stood merely to mean the over­com­ing of the di­vi­sion of labor, but it is rather more than that. It is the prac­tic­al ex­pres­sion of what is meant here by “ac­tu­al in­fin­ity.” It is the con­crete ex­pres­sion of the over­com­ing of the state of an­im­al­ity, a re­duc­tion of hu­man be­ings to their fixed life activ­ity in the cap­it­al­ist di­vi­sion of labor. Marx ex­pressed the same idea more elab­or­ately in the Grundrisse:

Cap­it­al’s cease­less striv­ing to­wards the gen­er­al form of wealth drives labor bey­ond the lim­its of its nat­ur­al pal­tri­ness, and thus cre­ates the ma­ter­i­al ele­ments for the de­vel­op­ment of the rich in­di­vidu­al­ity which is as all-sided in its pro­duc­tion as in its con­sump­tion, and whose labor there­fore no longer ap­pears as labor, but as the full de­vel­op­ment of activ­ity it­self, in which nat­ur­al ne­ces­sity in its dir­ect form has dis­ap­peared, be­cause a his­tor­ic­ally cre­ated need has taken the place of the nat­ur­al one.56

The “full de­vel­op­ment of activ­ity it­self” is the “prac­tic­al” real­iz­a­tion of ac­tu­al in­fin­ity. It means that every spe­cif­ic activ­ity is al­ways the “ex­tern­al” ex­pres­sion of a more fun­da­ment­al gen­er­al activ­ity, hav­ing an ex­pan­ded ver­sion of it­self as its own goal. In such a so­cial con­di­tion, the im­me­di­ate pro­duct­ive activ­ity of freely-as­so­ci­ated in­di­vidu­als would al­ways be in real­ity self-(re)pro­duc­tion aimed at the mul­ti­plic­a­tion of hu­man powers, in­clud­ing the in­nov­a­tion of new powers. Every activ­ity relates back to the act­or. “Ac­tu­al in­fin­ity” in this sense is the prac­tic­al pres­ence of the gen­er­al in every spe­cif­ic activ­ity in the here and now. For the En­light­en­ment, an ob­ject was merely a thing; for Hegel and above all for Marx, an ob­ject is a re­la­tion­ship, me­di­ated by a thing.

The link between the mech­an­ist re­volu­tion of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury and the at­tri­bu­tion of an­im­al­ity to hu­man be­ings is New­ton’s the­ory of in­fin­ity. This — what Hegel called “bad in­fin­ity” — is the nub of the ques­tion. The in­fin­ity, or in­fin­ites­im­al, of New­ton’s cal­cu­lus, which solved the prob­lems of math­em­at­ic­ally de­scrib­ing the mo­tions of bod­ies in space and time, was an “asymp­tot­ic” pro­ced­ure (with roots in Zeno’s para­dox in Greek philo­sophy) in­volving the in­fin­ite di­vi­sion of space or time ap­proach­ing a lim­it that was nev­er reached. With New­ton, in­fin­ity for the West be­came in­fin­ite re­pe­ti­tion to­ward a goal that was nev­er reached. (It was an ap­pro­pri­ate con­cep­tion for an era in which Man was an ideal to be ap­proached but nev­er at­tained). This in­fin­ity, as shall be seen, ex­pressed the so­cial real­ity of the new cap­it­al­ist di­vi­sion of labor, as the­or­ized by Adam Smith, who praised the so­cial ef­fi­ciency achieved by the re­leg­a­tion of the in­di­vidu­al work­er to the end­less, lifelong re­pe­ti­tion of one ges­ture.

Philo­soph­ic­al an­thro­po­logy to race sci­ence, 1666-1853
.

With the emer­gence of this new so­cial phe­nomen­on of the re­leg­a­tion of the at­om­ized in­di­vidu­al to a single ges­ture, early cap­it­al­ism trans­formed the hu­man be­ing in­to the wage work­er who (as Marx put it in the quote used at the out­set) was pre­cisely iden­ti­fied with his/her life activ­ity, that is in­to an an­im­al. This was the de­grad­a­tion of the hu­man, sim­ul­tan­eously with the sub­jug­a­tion of non-European peoples, in­to which the new concept of race could move, in the last dec­ades of the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, fol­low­ing the lead of Sir Wil­li­am Petty’s Scale of Creatures (1676).57 The En­light­en­ment could say that some (e.g. dark-skinned) people were an­im­als and beasts of bur­den be­cause the dis­ap­pear­ance, un­der the blows of the new mech­an­ist­ic sci­ence, of the earli­er Greco-Ro­man or Judeo-Chris­ti­an views of the hu­man made it po­ten­tially pos­sible, in the right cir­cum­stances, to see any­one as subhu­man, start­ing with the la­bor­ing classes of Europe it­self. (This po­ten­tial would re­quire 250 years to work it­self out, from Malthus to the fas­cist par­oxysm of So­cial Dar­win­ist “liv­ing space” [Lebens­raum] for the “mas­ter race”).

But it is ne­ces­sary to be care­ful; not all En­light­en­ment the­or­ists of the new idea of “race” were ra­cists; some used the term in a de­script­ive an­thro­po­lo­gic­al sense without value judg­ment. What laid the found­a­tion for the vir­u­lent nine­teenth cen­tury the­or­ies of race was the taxo­nom­ic-clas­si­fic­at­ory “fix­ity of spe­cies” with which the En­light­en­ment re­placed the older Chris­ti­an view of the unity of man: “It is the as­ser­tion of bio­lo­gic­ally fixed, un­chan­ging ‘races’ with dif­fer­ent men­tal and mor­al value judg­ments (“high­er,” “lower”) which be­came the de­cis­ive cri­terion for mod­ern ra­cism and a key ar­gu­ment for its propaga­tion. Berni­er, Buffon, Lin­naeus, Kant, and Blu­men­bach de­vel­op their sys­tems for the clas­si­fic­a­tion and hier­archy of hu­man­ity with ex­tremely var­ied po­s­i­tions on slavery and on the hu­man­ity of “races” both out­side Europe as well as among the “whites” who were in­creas­ingly dom­in­ant in world af­fairs.”58

The fol­low­ing is a chart of the ma­jor En­light­en­ment the­or­ies of race, with au­thor, work and year of pub­lic­a­tion:

Geor­gi­us Horn­i­us
(ca. 1620-1670)
Arca Noae (1666) Japh­et­ites (white), Semites (yel­low) Ham­ites (black)
.
Fran­cois Berni­er (1620-1688) Nou­velle di­vi­sion de
la terre
(1684)
Europeans, Afric­ans, Chinese, and Ja­pan­ese, Lapps
.
Carl Lin­naeus (1707-1778) Sys­tema natur­ae (1735) Euro­paeus al­bus (white), Amer­ic­anus rubesceus (red), Asi­atic­us lur­idus (yel­low), Afer ni­ger (black)
.
François Buffon (1707-1788) His­toire naturelle (1749) Lapp Po­lar, Tar­tar, South Asi­an, European, Ethiopi­an, Amer­ic­an
.
Ed­ward Long (1734-1813) His­tory of Ja­maica Genus homo: Europeans and re­lated peoples; blacks; or­an­gutans
.
Jo­hann Friedrich Blu­men­bach De gen­er­is hu­manis vari­et­at­e n­ativa (1775) Caucasi­ans; Mon­go­li­ans; Ethiopi­ans; Amer­ic­ans; Malays
.
Im­manuel Kant Von den ver­schieden­en Rassen den Menschen (1775) Whites, Negroes, Mon­go­li­an or Calmuck­ic race, the Hindu
.
Chris­ti­an Mein­ers (1747-1810) Grundrisse der Geschichte der Mensch­heit (1775) “light, beau­ti­ful” race, “dark, ugly” race
.

(The above chart, with small ad­di­tions, is trans­lated from I. Geiss, Geschichte des Rassismus, Frank­furt 1988, pp. 142-143)

The En­light­en­ment was, as such, neither ra­cist nor an ideo­logy of rel­ev­ance only to “white European males.” Nev­er­the­less, it presents the fol­low­ing conun­drum. On one hand, the West­ern En­light­en­ment in its broad main­stream was in­dis­put­ably uni­ver­sal­ist and egal­it­ari­an, and there­fore cre­ated power­ful weapons for the at­tack on any doc­trine of ra­cial su­prem­acy; on the oth­er hand, the En­light­en­ment, as the pre­ced­ing chart shows, just as in­dis­put­ably gave birth to the very concept of race, and some of its il­lus­tri­ous rep­res­ent­at­ives be­lieved that whites were su­per­i­or to all oth­ers. This prob­lem can­not be solved by lin­ing up En­light­en­ment fig­ures ac­cord­ing to their views on slavery and white su­prem­acy. Adam Smith, bet­ter known as the the­or­eti­cian of the free mar­ket and apo­lo­gist for the cap­it­al­ist di­vi­sion of labor, at­tacked both, where­as Hobbes and Locke jus­ti­fied slavery, and such em­in­ences as Thomas Jef­fer­son, who favored ab­ol­i­tion (however tep­idly) and de­fen­ded the French Re­volu­tion even in its Jac­obin phase, firmly be­lieved that blacks were bio­lo­gic­ally in­feri­or to whites.

This kind of polling of En­light­en­ment fig­ures for their views on slavery and race is, fur­ther, is an ex­tremely lim­ited first ap­proach to the ques­tion, eas­ily sus­cept­ible to the worst kind of ana­chron­ism. What was re­mark­able about the En­light­en­ment, seen in a world con­text, was not that some of its dis­tin­guished fig­ures sup­por­ted slavery and white su­prem­acy but that sig­ni­fic­ant num­bers of them op­posed both. As Part One showed, slavery as an in­sti­tu­tion flour­ished in the col­or-blind six­teenth cen­tury Medi­ter­ranean slave pool, and no par­ti­cip­at­ing so­ci­ety, Chris­ti­an or Muslim, European, Turk­ish, Ar­ab or Afric­an, ques­tioned it. Well in­to the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, West­ern at­tacks on New World slavery only at­temp­ted to curb its ex­cesses. Rad­ic­al Prot­est­ant sects in North Amer­ica (the Men­non­ites, then the Quakers) were well ahead of sec­u­lar En­light­en­ment fig­ures in call­ing for out­right ab­ol­i­tion, between 1688 and 1740, and a polit­ic­al move­ment for ab­ol­i­tion,59 again with re­li­gious groups more pre­pon­der­ant than sec­u­lar En­light­en­ment fig­ures, only emerged in the Anglo-Amer­ic­an world in the fi­nal quarter of the eight­eenth cen­tury, as the En­light­en­ment was cul­min­at­ing in the Amer­ic­an and French Re­volu­tions. There is no in­trins­ic re­la­tion­ship between Hume’s philo­soph­ic­al skep­ti­cism or Kant’s cri­tique of it, and their com­mon be­lief that whites were in­nately su­per­i­or.60

Any cri­tique of the lim­its of the En­light­en­ment, where the ques­tion of race is con­cerned, has to be­gin by ac­know­ledging the rad­ic­al­ism of the best of the En­light­en­ment, for that side of the En­light­en­ment, in the sev­en­teenth and eight­eenth cen­tur­ies, was rad­ic­al in re­la­tion to the West­ern so­ci­et­ies in which it ap­peared,61 and also rad­ic­al re­l­at­ive to many non-West­ern so­ci­et­ies it in­flu­enced. Read­ers of CLR James’ ac­count of the Haitian Re­volu­tion will re­call his de­scrip­tion of the ab­ol­i­tion of slavery in all colon­ies by the French Na­tion­al As­sembly in Feb­ru­ary 1794, when the Jac­obins and the even more rad­ic­al Moun­tain were at the height of their power, un­der the pres­sure of the Parisi­an masses in the streets. Ab­ol­i­tion in Haiti had been won by the black slaves led by Tous­saint Louver­ture in Au­gust 1793, but, threatened by Brit­ish and Span­ish mil­it­ary in­ter­ven­tion to seize the colony and re­store slavery, the Haitian re­volu­tion­ar­ies wished to re­main al­lied to France, and wanted ab­ol­i­tion con­firmed by the As­sembly. Neither Robe­s­pi­erre nor the Moun­tain wanted it, but the rad­ic­al­iz­a­tion of the situ­ation un­der mass pres­sure, in the most ex­treme year of the re­volu­tion, forced it on them:

…The work­ers and peas­ants of France could not have been ex­pec­ted to take any in­terest in the co­lo­ni­al ques­tion in nor­mal times, any more than one can ex­pect sim­il­ar in­terest from Brit­ish or French work­ers today [James was writ­ing in 1938 — LG]. But now they were roused. They were strik­ing at roy­alty, tyranny, re­ac­tion and op­pres­sion of all types, and with these they in­cluded slavery. The pre­ju­dice of race is su­per­fi­cially the most ir­ra­tion­al of all pre­ju­dices, and by a per­fectly com­pre­hens­ible re­ac­tion the Par­is work­ers, from in­dif­fer­ence in 1789, had come by this time to de­test no sec­tion of the ar­is­to­cracy so much as those whom they called “the ar­is­to­cracy of the skin”… Par­is between March 1793 and Ju­ly 1794 was one of the su­preme epochs of polit­ic­al his­tory. Nev­er un­til 1917 were masses ever to have such power­ful in­flu­ence — for it was no more than in­flu­ence — on any gov­ern­ment. In these few months of their nearest ap­proach to power they did not for­get the blacks. They felt to­ward them as broth­ers, and the old slave-own­ers, whom they knew to be sup­port­ers of the coun­ter­re­volu­tion, they hated as if French­men them­selves had suffered un­der the whip.62

Bel­lay, a former slave and deputy to the Con­ven­tion from San Domin­go (as Haiti was then called) presen­ted his cre­den­tials and on the fol­low­ing day in­tro­duced a mo­tion for the ab­ol­i­tion of slavery. It was passed without de­bate and by ac­clam­a­tion, and was the rad­ic­al high wa­ter mark of the re­volu­tion. As James said, it was “one of the most im­port­ant le­gis­lat­ive acts ever passed by any polit­ic­al as­sembly.”

It is cer­tainly true that the proto-pro­let­ari­an ac­tion of the Parisi­an masses in 1793-1794, and their link-up with the over­throw of slavery in San Domin­go, went bey­ond any polit­ic­al ideas of the En­light­en­ment of the sev­en­teenth and eight­eenth cen­tury.63 They were still too weak, and cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety too un­developed, for them to be any­thing but bril­liant pre­curs­ors of later re­volu­tions in which, for brief mo­ments, re­volts in the “cen­ter” fuse with re­volts in the “peri­phery” and mark a turn in world his­tory.64 It was not in France but in Ger­many, over the next two dec­ades, that philo­soph­ers, above all GWF Hegel, would the­or­ize the ac­tions of the Parisi­an masses in­to a the­ory of polit­ics that went bey­ond the En­light­en­ment and laid the found­a­tions for the the­ory of the com­mun­ist move­ment later ar­tic­u­lated by Marx.65 Nev­er­the­less, nowhere did the rad­ic­al En­light­en­ment pro­gram of liberté, égalité, fraternité ac­quire such con­crete­ness as a pro­gram for mass ac­tion as in Santo Domin­go after 1791 and in Par­is in 1793-1794; Tous­saint Louver­ture had him­self stud­ied French En­light­en­ment thought. Thus the “best of the En­light­en­ment” is re­vealed pre­cisely by the ac­tions of people who, in­flu­enced by it, were already in the pro­cess of go­ing bey­ond it, with prac­tice (as al­ways) well in ad­vance of the­ory. This real­iz­a­tion of the En­light­en­ment, as the re­volu­tion ebbed, was also the end of the En­light­en­ment, for reas­ons too com­plex to be treated here.66 The En­light­en­ment had fore­seen neither the Jac­obin Ter­ror nor Na­po­leon, and could only be salvaged by fig­ures such as Hegel and Marx, who sub­sumed the En­light­en­ment in­to a new his­tor­ic­al ra­tion­al­ity of the kind de­fen­ded here.

One strand of the worst of the En­light­en­ment was real­ized in the work of Thomas Malthus (1766-1834), lay­ing the basis for an ideo­logy which is still rampant today, and com­pletely en­twined, in the US and many oth­er coun­tries, with ra­cism.

Malthus’s ba­sic idea, as many people know, was that hu­man pop­u­la­tion in­creases geo­met­ric­ally while ag­ri­cul­tur­al pro­duc­tion in­creases only arith­met­ic­ally, mak­ing peri­od­ic fam­ine in­ev­it­able. Malthus there­fore pro­posed meas­ures for “grind­ing the faces of the poor” (as the say­ing goes), op­pos­ing a min­im­um wage and wel­fare be­cause they en­cour­aged prof­lig­ate re­pro­duc­tion of the work­ing classes, and wel­com­ing peri­od­ic epi­dem­ic, fam­ine and war as use­ful checks on ex­cess pop­u­la­tion.67 (In con­trast to today’s Malthu­s­i­ans, such as the World Bank and the IMF, who preach zero pop­u­la­tion growth to Third World coun­tries, Malthus also op­posed con­tra­cep­tion for the poor be­cause the “re­serve army of the un­em­ployed” kept wages down.) Even in Malthus’ own time, in­nov­a­tions in ag­ri­cul­ture had doubled pro­duc­tion in Eng­land, but Malthus was above all con­cerned with de­vel­op­ing a “sci­entif­ic” facade for policies aimed at max­im­iz­ing ac­cu­mu­la­tion and con­trolling the vast armies of poor people un­leashed by the early, bru­tal phase of the In­dus­tri­al Re­volu­tion.

It would be a trav­esty to call Par­son Malthus an “En­light­en­ment thinker”; he was already de­nounced by lib­er­als and rad­ic­als of his own time. But his lin­ear view of ag­ri­cul­tur­al pro­duc­tion was a dir­ect ex­tra­pol­a­tion, in polit­ic­al eco­nomy, of the lin­ear­ity and “bad in­fin­ity” of New­to­ni­an phys­ics and the En­light­en­ment on­to­logy. Malthu­s­i­an man was Hob­be­sian man: an an­im­al, per­form­ing a fixed func­tion in the di­vi­sion of labor in a so­ci­ety with fixed re­sources. Malthus was not so opaque as to deny in­ven­tion, but his lin­ear view, which he shared with all polit­ic­al eco­nomy (as shall be shown mo­ment­ar­ily) con­cealed the real­ity, demon­strated many times in his­tory, that in­nov­a­tions in pro­ductiv­ity (and not merely in ag­ri­cul­ture) peri­od­ic­ally move so­ci­ety for­ward in non-lin­ear leaps, from apples to or­anges, so to speak. (In the late six­teenth cen­tury, for ex­ample, end-of-the-world cults pro­lif­er­ated over the com­ing de­ple­tion of the forests in Europe’s wood-based eco­nomy; a cen­tury later, in­ven­tions in the use of iron had made coal, not wood, Europe’s ma­jor fuel, ob­vi­at­ing the earli­er hys­teria). Re­sources, like hu­man cap­ab­il­it­ies, are not “fixed,” but are peri­od­ic­ally re­defined by in­nov­a­tion, and ma­jor in­nov­a­tion ripples through a whole so­ci­ety, cre­at­ing the non-lin­ear “apples to or­anges” ef­fect.

The same lin­ear­ity, however, per­vaded even clas­sic­al polit­ic­al eco­nomy, with dir­ect En­light­en­ment sources (most im­port­antly in Adam Smith), from which Malthus may be seen as an early, but sig­ni­fic­ant, de­vi­ation. Dav­id Ri­cardo (1772-1823) was praised by Marx as the most ad­vanced polit­ic­al eco­nom­ist, the the­or­eti­cian of “pro­duc­tion for pro­duc­tion’s sake.” (For Marx, by con­trast, “the mul­ti­plic­a­tion of hu­man powers,” not pro­duc­tion per se, was “its own goal”). But al­though in­nov­a­tion was far more cent­ral to Ri­cardo’s eco­nom­ics, he too suc­cumbed to the lin­ear­ity of his premises. Malthus’s bour­geois “end of the world” scen­ario was over­pop­u­la­tion; for the pro­duct­iv­ist Ri­cardo, the un­leashed pro­ductiv­ity of cap­it­al­ism would be strangled by ground rent as poorer and poorer soils were used for raw ma­ter­i­als. Like Malthus, Ri­cardo failed to con­ceive of “quantum-leap” in­nov­a­tions that would su­per­sede the need for spe­cif­ic, lim­ited raw ma­ter­i­als. Thus the two ma­jor “end of the world” scen­ari­os pro­duced by nine­teenth cen­tury eco­nom­ics grew out of En­light­en­ment, bad-in­fin­ity premises that saw even in­nov­a­tion in terms of lin­ear re­pe­ti­tion. Ri­cardo cul­min­ated clas­sic­al polit­ic­al eco­nomy’s the­or­iz­a­tion of labor, but the lim­it­a­tions of a bour­geois view­point pre­ven­ted him from grasp­ing the idea of hu­man labor-power, out of which “apples to or­anges” im­prove­ments in so­ci­ety’s re­la­tion to nature peri­od­ic­ally oc­cur.68

Marx’s concept of labor-power is the con­crete real­iz­a­tion, in so­cial terms, of the “ac­tu­al in­fin­ity” of pre-En­light­en­ment thought; it is the nuc­le­us of a ra­tion­al­ity bey­ond the En­light­en­ment, a ra­tion­al­ity centered on the “fish­ing in the morn­ing, hunt­ing in the af­ter­noon, and cri­ti­cism in the even­ing” no­tion ex­plained earli­er, in which man goes bey­ond a fixed place in the di­vi­sion of labor, “fixed” nat­ur­al re­sources de­term­ined by one phase of pro­ductiv­ity, and the fix­ity of spe­cies in re­la­tion to their en­vir­on­ment that char­ac­ter­izes an­im­als. It thereby goes bey­ond the worst of the En­light­en­ment, the Hob­be­sian view of man which, in con­crete his­tor­ic­al cir­cum­stances, fuses with En­light­en­ment and post-En­light­en­ment race the­ory.

The pre­ced­ing, then, was a “the­or­et­ic­al” ex­pos­i­tion of the flaws of the En­light­en­ment world view, (the gen­er­al world view of bour­geois-cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety in its pro­gress­ive phase), which have dis­armed it against race the­ory and ra­cism, the as­so­ci­ation of phys­ic­al fea­tures with cul­tur­al traits, and even, in their early phase, con­trib­uted to them. It has the ad­vant­age of go­ing “be­neath” the wide ar­ray of views for and against slavery and white su­prem­acist race the­ory held by in­di­vidu­al En­light­en­ment fig­ures to the found­a­tions of a world view they shared, but it has the great dis­ad­vant­age of pos­ing “the­or­et­ic­ally” the evol­u­tion of ideas which are in fact the product of a shift­ing bal­ance of forces in real his­tory.

Marx’s real­iz­a­tion of pre-En­light­en­ment ac­tu­al in­fin­ity in his the­ory of labor power sur­passed both the Chris­ti­an idea of hu­man­ity and the En­light­en­ment view of Man in a con­crete-prac­tic­al view of real people in his­tory. But, as stated earli­er, if race were merely an idea, it could be over­come by an­oth­er idea. The con­nec­tion first made by some En­light­en­ment fig­ures between bio­logy and cul­ture be­came so­cially ef­fect­ive in the sev­en­teenth and eight­eenth cen­tury not as a mere idea but as a le­git­im­a­tion of the At­lantic slave trade, of West­ern world dom­in­a­tion, and in the US, the spe­cial race strat­i­fic­a­tion of work­ing people as it first emerged in sev­en­teenth-cen­tury Vir­gin­ia; it was de­flated neither by Marx’s writ­ings, still less by the real move­ments or­gan­ized by many of Marx’s fol­low­ers (whose re­la­tion to the over­com­ing of race was of­ten ideo­lo­gic­ally rhet­or­ic­al and prac­tic­ally am­bigu­ous, at best.). The bio­lo­gic­al idea of race has been mar­gin­al­ized, but not made ex­tinct, in of­fi­cial West­ern cul­ture since the nine­teenth cen­tury by anti-co­lo­ni­al struggles and the emer­gence of former colon­ies as in­dus­tri­al powers, by the cul­min­a­tion of West­ern race the­ory in Nazism, and by the suc­cesses of the black move­ment in the US in the 1960s, with both na­tion­al and in­ter­na­tion­al re­per­cus­sions. It was also mar­gin­al­ized, with­in the of­fi­cial cul­ture, by a cri­tique launched in the early twen­ti­eth cen­tury by fig­ures such as Franz Boas and Robert Ezra Park, which began as a dis­tinctly minor­ity view among edu­cated whites and which in­creas­ingly drew mo­mentum from these events. Nev­er­the­less, be­gin­ning in the late 1960s, and ac­cel­er­at­ing in the cli­mate of world eco­nom­ic crisis since then, the bio­logy-cul­ture con­nec­tion and its (usu­ally ex­pli­cit) ra­cist edge began to make a comeback in the work of Kon­rad Lorenz, Ban­field, Jensen, Schockley, Her­rn­stein, EO Wilson, and more re­cently in the con­tro­versy around Her­rn­stein and Mur­ray’s The Bell Curve.69 Bio­lo­gic­al the­or­ies of cul­ture (with no ra­cist in­tent) are also re­appear­ing in the ut­ter­ances of fig­ures with such lib­er­al cre­den­tials as Ca­m­ille Paglia and Carl De­g­ler.70

The his­tory of the idea of race as the bio­lo­gic­al de­term­in­ant of cul­ture after the En­light­en­ment is far bey­ond the scope of this art­icle. After the French Re­volu­tion, the back­lash against the En­light­en­ment took many forms, but the rel­ev­ant one here was the in­tens­i­fic­a­tion of the bio­logy-cul­ture the­ory of race first de­veloped by some En­light­en­ment fig­ures, and re­l­at­ive ob­li­vi­on for the more neut­ral an­thro­po­lo­gic­al use of the term, not linked to judg­ment­al col­or-coded race hier­arch­ies, de­veloped by oth­ers, even if still tain­ted with a “fix­ity of spe­cies” out­look. But the key point is that when deeply anti-En­light­en­ment fig­ures such as Count Gobineau21 (1816-1882) began the in­tens­i­fic­a­tion of race the­ory that poin­ted dir­ectly to fas­cism, they had already found the concept of race in the En­light­en­ment leg­acy. By the end of the nine­teenth cen­tury it was com­mon coin in both Europe and Amer­ica to refer to the “Anglo-Sax­on race,” the “Lat­in race,” the “Slavic race,” the “Ori­ent­al race,” the “Negro race” etc. with or without (and usu­ally with) judg­ment­al rank­ing,72 and usu­ally as­sum­ing a bio­lo­gic­al basis for cul­tur­al dif­fer­ences. (Phren­o­logy, which claimed to de­term­ine in­tel­li­gence by skull shape and size, also re­mained a re­spect­able sci­ence un­til the end of the nine­teenth cen­tury.) The ad­mix­ture of So­cial Dar­win­ism after 1870 (for which Dar­win is not to be blamed) and the massive land grab known as im­per­i­al­ism cre­ated an in­ter­na­tion­al cli­mate in which, by 1900, it was the rare edu­cated white European or Amer­ic­an who ques­tioned race the­ory root and branch. Fore­run­ners of The Bell Curve routinely ap­peared in the U.S. up to the 1920s demon­strat­ing “sci­en­tific­ally” the bio­lo­gic­al in­feri­or­ity of the Ir­ish, Itali­ans, Poles, and Jews, and in­flu­enced the Im­mig­ra­tion Act of 1924 sharply cur­tail­ing im­mig­ra­tion and im­pos­ing quotas on such na­tion­al­it­ies.73 Eu­gen­ics ac­cel­er­ated in pop­ular­ity in the Anglo-Amer­ic­an world from 1850 on­ward, and Hitler and the Nazis claimed that they took many ideas, such as forced ster­il­iz­a­tion, from the Amer­ic­an eu­gen­ics move­ment. Mar­garet Sanger, the fam­ous cru­sader for birth con­trol, was a white su­prem­acist, as were a num­ber of early Amer­ic­an suf­fra­gettes and fem­in­ists.74 Some sec­tions of the pre-World War I So­cial­ist Party made open ap­peals to white su­prem­acy, and the SP right-wing lead­er Vic­tor Ber­ger was an un­abashed ra­cist.75

For many of these post-En­light­en­ment de­vel­op­ments, the En­light­en­ment it­self is of course not to be blamed. Many So­cial Dar­win­ists, eu­gen­i­cists, suf­fra­gettes, Pro­gress­ives and so­cial­ists ca. 1900 un­doubtedly iden­ti­fied with the En­light­en­ment and thought their ideas of “sci­ence,” in­clud­ing “sci­entif­ic” demon­stra­tion of the in­nate in­feri­or­ity of peoples of col­or, were an ex­ten­sion of the En­light­en­ment project, and the pre­ced­ing dis­cus­sion shows they in fact had their En­light­en­ment pre­de­cessors. Nev­er­the­less, the early in­tel­lec­tu­al de­bunkers of this pseudo-sci­ence, such as Boas, were also heirs to the En­light­en­ment. When the En­light­en­ment is re­membered today, it is not Berni­er, Buffon and Blu­men­bach who first come to mind, but rather Voltaire, Di­derot, Rousseau, Kant (the philo­soph­er, not the an­thro­po­lo­gist), and Paine, and one could do worse than to sum­mar­ize their leg­acy as the de­bunk­ing of mys­ti­fic­a­tion. The En­light­en­ment con­trib­uted to the West­ern the­ory of race, and the real sep­ar­a­tion of cul­ture from bio­logy was the work of post-En­light­en­ment fig­ures such as Marx, and above all the real his­tor­ic­al move­ment of the past cen­tury. Nev­er­the­less, when the En­light­en­ment is at­tacked today — by Chris­ti­an, Jew­ish, Muslim, and Hindu fun­da­ment­al­ists for sep­ar­at­ing re­li­gion and state, or by the new bio­lo­gism of the New Right or the Afro­centrists for its uni­ver­sal­ism, or by the post­mod­ern­ists as an ideo­logy of and for “white European males” — it is the best of the En­light­en­ment, the liberté, égalité, fraternité of the Parisi­an and Haitian masses in 1794, and the best post-En­light­en­ment heirs such as Marx, which are the real tar­gets. Such at­tacks re­mind us that, once cri­tique is sep­ar­ated from the lim­it­a­tions of the En­light­en­ment out­lined here, there is plenty of mys­ti­fic­a­tion still to be de­bunked.

Notes


1 This art­icle will ap­pear in two parts; part one will treat the first ap­pear­ance of ra­cial ideas, in the Span­ish “blood pur­ity” laws and the ex­pul­sion of Jews and Muslims after 1492, and the trans­ition peri­od up to the 1650s in which Europeans de­bated wheth­er the New World peoples were des­cen­ded from the “lost tribes of Is­rael”; part two will deal with the ap­pear­ance of the new concept of race it­self, be­gin­ning in the 1670s, in the first phase of the Anglo-French En­light­en­ment.
2 To take only one ex­ample, though the most im­port­ant, along with the le­gend of Prest­er John (cf. be­low): the Black Magus/King in de­pic­tions of the Nativ­ity scene. “That the Afric­an Magus should have been ad­op­ted in all Ger­man re­gions by 1470 is by it­self re­mark­able. Still more ex­traordin­ary is the fact that the black King was then bor­rowed by every oth­er sig­ni­fic­ant school of artists in West­ern Europe, some­times al­most im­me­di­ately, and by ca. 1510 at the latest.” P. Ka­plan, The Rise of the Black Magus in West­ern Art (Ann Ar­bor, 1985), p. 112. The so­cial basis for this view is sug­ges­ted by the black pres­ence at the thir­teenth cen­tury court of the Fre­d­er­ick II (Ho­hen­staufen), the last im­port­ant Holy Ro­man Em­per­or of the me­di­ev­al peri­od: “The pro­cliv­ity for blacks at Fre­d­er­ick’s court was not merely a ca­pri­cious idio­syn­crasy, but a means of sug­gest­ing the Ho­hen­staufens’ claim to a uni­ver­sal im­per­i­al sov­er­eignty that might in­clude ‘the two Ethiopi­as, the coun­try of the black Moors, the coun­try of the Parthi­ans, Syr­ia, Per­sia, Ar­a­bia, Chaldea and even Egypt’.” (ibid. p. 10) These im­per­i­al pre­ten­sions may ap­pear laugh­able, and are def­in­itely part of a cru­sader ideo­logy, but they in­dic­ate that the uni­ver­sal ism of the Holy Ro­man Em­pire was
for Chris­ti­ans, not for a non-ex­ist­ent cat­egory of “whites.”
3 To say this is not to im­ply that the in­hab­it­ants of “West­ern Christen­dom” (a concept more ap­pro­pri­ate than Europe for the me­di­ev­al peri­od) did not peri­od­ic­ally find all kinds of reas­ons to hate, kill and op­press Jews, Muslims and “hea­thens”; it is merely to say that the di­vi­sion of the world between Chris­ti­ans and non-Chris­ti­ans was re­li­gious and was not race-based. In me­di­ev­al Spain, for ex­ample (one of the most sig­ni­fic­ant cases, for cen­tur­ies, of co-hab­it­a­tion between the three mono­the­isms and also the coun­try in which proto-ra­cism first ap­peared in the early mod­ern peri­od), Chris­ti­ans and Muslim of­ten con­ver­ted back and forth as the front lines fluc­tu­ated. Muslims en­slaved by Chris­ti­ans in the wars of re­con­quest could, in a gen­er­a­tion or two, be­come serfs. Cf. C. Ver­linden, L’es­clav­age dans l’Europe médiévale (Ghent, 1955), pg. 139ff. Pas­sage from slavery to serf­dom var­ied widely around the Iberi­an pen­in­sula, but it de­pended every­where on the bal­ance of forces between Chris­ti­an mas­ters and serfs, not on any race-based cri­terion.
4 Joachim’s ideas are briefly sketched in N. Cohn, The Pur­suit of the Mil­len­ni­um (Ox­ford, 1983), pp. 108-110. For a fuller treat­ment, cf. M. Reeves, Joachim di Fiore (New York, 1977). (Joachim’s thought also an­ti­cip­ated some of the un­for­tu­nate fu­tur­ist­ic ideo­logues of the de­funct So­viet bloc whose cy­ber­net­ic vis­ions of full com­mun­ism got them in­to trouble be­cause they failed to in­clude the guid­ing role of the Party).
5 The story of the Prest­er John le­gend is told in R. Sanders, Lost Tribes and Prom­ised Lands, (Bo­ston, 1978) Ch. 3.
6 A. Mil­hou, Colon y su men­tal­id­ad mesiánica (Val­lad­ol­id, 1983), p. 217 refers to this proph­ecy.
7 Colum­bus’ let­ter re­port­ing the prox­im­ity of para­dise is quoted in V. Flint, The Ima­gin­at­ive Land­scape of Chris­toph­er Colum­bus (Prin­ceton, 1992), pp. 149ff.
8 J. Abu Lug­hod, in Be­fore European He­ge­mony: The World Sys­tem, AD 1250-1350 (Ox­ford, 1989) sketches out this world oikou­mene, whatever prob­lems ex­ist in her idea of what con­sti­tutes cap­it­al­ism.
9 It is not widely re­cog­nized that the break­up of the me­di­ev­al world in Europe, the Middle East, In­dia, and China were re­l­at­ively sim­ul­tan­eous phe­nom­ena, at­ten­ded every­where, from Ja­pan to Po­land, by the thir­teenth and four­teenth cen­tury erup­tion of the Mon­gols, and by the Black Death. Of the four ma­jor Old World civil­iz­a­tions, west­ern Europe suffered least from the Mon­gol in­va­sions. Cf. Abu Lug­hod).
10 R. Hilton, ed. The Bren­ner De­bate (Lon­don 1985), dis­cusses the im­pact of four­teenth cen­tury agrari­an re­volts on the end of serf­dom and the tri­umph of wage labor in the Eng­lish coun­tryside.
11 The many works of Chris­toph­er Hill, such as The World Turned Up­side Down (Lon­don 1987) are the best in­tro­duc­tion to these cur­rents. An old clas­sic, ori­gin­ally writ­ten in 1895, is Eduard Bern­stein’s Crom­well and Com­mun­ism (New York, 1963).
12 The rad­ic­als were repressed and ebbed away dur­ing Crom­well’s Com­mon­wealth and the Stu­art res­tor­a­tion after 1660; only in the 1688 “Glor­i­ous Re­volu­tion” was ab­so­lut­ism de­feated and con­sti­tu­tion­al mon­archy fi­nally con­sol­id­ated, after which “Locke drove out Habakkuk” (as Marx put in the Eight­eenth Bru­maire, re­fer­ring to the shift away from re­li­gion in the ideo­logy of the bour­geois­ie). It is not of­ten poin­ted out, in typ­ic­al ac­counts of the En­light­en­ment, that the Brit­ish slave trade to the New World also ex­pan­ded ex­po­nen­tially after the 1688 “Glor­i­ous Re­volu­tion” in Eng­land, of­ten cited as the be­gin­ning of the Eng­lish phase of the En­light­en­ment. As late as the 1680s, the Roy­al Afric­an Com­pany, the gov­ern­ment slave-trad­ing mono­poly (of which John Locke was a board mem­ber), trans­por­ted ap­prox­im­ately 5,000 slaves per year, where­as in the first nine years after 1688, Bris­tol alone handled 161,000. Cf. E. Wil­li­ams, Cap­it­al­ism and Slavery (New York, 1980), p. 32)
13 It is an ana­chron­ist­ic mis­take to see Greek, Ro­man, Muslim, or Chinese at­ti­tudes to­ward the “Oth­er” in the an­cient and me­di­ev­al peri­ods as “ra­cist.” For the an­cient Greeks, a “bar­bar­i­an” was someone who did not par­ti­cip­ate in a pol­is; the Ro­mans, also, throughout an enorm­ous em­pire, thought of them­selves as cit­izens of a city, and saw the “Oth­er” in those who were not. See JA Arm­strong, Na­tions Be­fore Na­tion­al­ism (UNC Pr. 1982), p. 134. FM Snowden’s Blacks in An­tiquity (Cam­bridge 1970), Ch. VIII, doc­u­ments the ab­sence of “col­or pre­ju­dice” among Greeks and Ro­mans. A more re­cent and power­ful demon­stra­tion that the idea of race is a mod­ern in­ven­tion is I. Han­na­ford, Race: The His­tory of an Idea in the West (Bal­timore, 1996). “In Greece and Rome, the or­gan­iz­ing idea of race was ab­sent so long as the polit­ic­al idea flour­ished to re­con­cile the volat­ile blood re­la­tions (kin­ship)… with the wider de­mands of the com­munity” (p. 14).
14 Sig­ni­fic­ant con­ver­sion and in­ter­mar­riage made the “blood pur­ity” ne­ces­sary to dis­tin­guish between “Old” and “New” Chris­ti­ans, the lat­ter be­ing con­ver­ted Jews.
15 J. Greene, The Death of Adam (Ames, 1959), pp. 39-54, de­scribes some of the sci­entif­ic de­bates in geo­logy and pa­le­on­to­logy of the late sev­en­teenth cen­tury that called in­to ques­tion Bib­lic­al chro­no­lo­gies; sim­il­arly, P. Rossi, The Dark Abyss of Time (Chica­go, 1984), par­tic­u­larly Ch. 36.
16 The lat­ter were the sons of Noah, from whom the dif­fer­ent groups of hu­man­ity pre­sum­ably des­cen­ded after the flood.
17 We say “proto-ra­cism” be­cause, even when a spe­cif­ic no­tion of “blood pur­ity” [lim­pieza de san­gre], un­der­writ­ing an idea of “pur­ity of (Chris­ti­an) caste [lo cas­tizo]” began to be im­ple­men­ted in Spain ca. 1450, its aim was still to dis­tin­guish Chris­ti­ans and Jews, and there­fore re­mained en­meshed in the older me­di­ev­al com­mun­al con­cep­tions. Nev­er­the­less, the In­quis­i­tion, which re­cog­nized lo cas­tizo only for those who could prove they had no Jew­ish an­ces­try for three gen­er­a­tions, thereby an­ti­cip­ated the Nazi Nurem­berg laws by nearly 500 years.
18 Spain also ex­pelled many Muslims after the fi­nal con­quest of the Ar­ab king­dom of Granada. Those who re­mained, the so-called mor­iscos, were for­cibly ex­pelled between 1568 and 1609. Pri­or to the end of the four­teenth cen­tury and the end of con­viven­cia, the Span­ish kings re­ferred to them­selves as the “kings of the three re­li­gions.” Cf. S. Shar­ot, Mes­si­an­ism, Mys­ti­cism, and Ma­gic (Chapel Hill, 1982), p. 72. For the clas­sic state­ment of Spain as the product of the ming­ling of the “three castes” cf. A. Castro, The Span­iards (Berke­ley, 1971), Ch. III.
19 This fif­teenth cen­tury an­ti­semit­ism was “new” in com­par­is­on to the an­ti­semit­ism of the an­cient world be­cause it res­ted on a new bio­lo­gic­al defin­i­tion of ra­cial pur­ity pre­vi­ously un­known.
20 Ac­cord­ing to Yves Ren­ou­ard, “…the bound­ary lines that de­term­ine to this day the fron­ti­ers of France, Eng­land and Spain were more or less defin­it­ively settled in a series of battles which oc­curred between 1212 and 1214.” (cited in Im­manuel Wall­er­stein, The Mod­ern World Sys­tem, vol. 1 (New York 1974), p. 32.
21 The first large-scale out­breaks of me­di­ev­al (as op­posed to mod­ern) an­ti­semit­ism in Europe oc­curred at the be­gin­ning of the Cru­sades, in 1096, there­fore co­in­cid­ing with a ma­jor ac­cel­er­a­tion of Europe’s ex­pan­sion­ist re­cov­ery from the ebb point of the ninth and tenth cen­tur­ies. Even worse out­breaks oc­curred in 1348-1349, when the Jews were blamed in many loc­ales for the out­break of the Black Death. A dis­cus­sion of the evol­u­tion of an­ti­semit­ism in the high Middle Ages is in K. Stow, Ali­en­ated Minor­ity: The Jews of Me­di­ev­al Lat­in Europe (Cam­bridge, 1992), Ch. 11. Stow con­trasts this with the lower Middle Ages: “…the early me­di­ev­al peri­od has al­ways been con­sidered a polit­ic­ally fa­vor­able one for Jews…Jews had a clearly de­marc­ated and stable polit­ic­al status, which only in later cen­tur­ies began to erode” (ibid., p. 43).
Most ob­serv­ers date the be­gin­ning of eco­nom­ic slow­down in the high Middle Ages from the be­gin­ning of the four­teenth cen­tury (cf. for ex­ample G. Duby, L’économie rurale et la vie des cam­pagnes dans l’Oc­ci­dent médiéval, Par­is 1962, vol. 2, part 4).
22 The first ma­jor pogrom in Spain began in Seville in 1391, and then spread to many oth­er cit­ies. The first laws of ra­cial pur­ity were en­acted in 1449 and ap­proved by the king in 1451. The Jews were ex­pelled from Spain in 1492, the same year as the com­ple­tion of the re­con­quest. Jews who con­ver­ted and re­mained were per­se­cuted by the In­quis­i­tion; after 1555 proof of blood pur­ity was re­quired for hold­ers of pub­lic of­fice. Cf. J. Ger­ber, The Jews of Spain (New York, 1992), pp. 127-129. The early mod­ern “pre­his­tory” of ra­cism in Spain is also covered in I. Geiss, Geschichte des Rassismus (Frank­furt, 1988), Ch. III.
23 Greco-Ro­man an­tiquity di­vided the world between those who were of the city and those who were not; the me­di­ev­al world, as in­dic­ated, di­vided the world in­to be­liev­ers (of one of the three mono­the­isms) and “hea­then.”
24 As Han­na­ford puts it: “Between the ex­pul­sion of the Jews and Moors from Spain and the land­ing of the first Negro in the North Amer­ic­an colon­ies in 1619, the word ‘race’ entered West­ern lan­guages.” Op. cit., p. 147.
25 Eng­lish res­ist­ance to the ma­jor Cath­ol­ic powers, first Habs­burg Spain and then the France of Louis XIV, was Prot­est­ant­ism’s first line of de­fense after 1558, when Prot­est­ant sur­viv­al against the Counter-Ref­or­ma­tion was any­thing but cer­tain; this hos­til­ity to Cath­oli­cism went so deep in­to Eng­lish pop­u­lar cul­ture that, three cen­tur­ies later, it still sur­vived in the Amer­ic­an “Know Noth­ing” anti-im­mig­rant (es­sen­tially, anti-Ir­ish) move­ment of the 1850s.
26 The early (six­teenth-cen­tury) Eng­lish and French in­tru­sions in­to the Span­ish em­pire, in search of a pas­sage to Asia which would al­low them to cir­cum­vent the Span­ish do­mains, at a time when Eng­land and France were cap­able of little more than ex­plor­at­ory mis­sions and tran­si­ent, failed colon­ies, is told in P. Hoff­man, A New Andalucía and a Way to the Ori­ent (LSU Pr. 1990).
27 Fig­ures on the New World slave trade from the six­teenth to the nine­teenth cen­tury, broken down by co­lo­ni­al power and by cen­tury, are in AM Pes­ca­tello, ed. The Afric­an in Lat­in Amer­ica (New York 1975), pp. 47-48. These fig­ures show Spain bring­ing 292,500 slaves to the New World in the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, while Bri­tain brought 263,000 to its (Carib­bean) colon­ies; in the eight­eenth cen­tury, i.e. after the Glor­i­ous Re­volu­tion (cf. foot­note 2 above) and in the high tide of the En­light­en­ment, ship­ments of slaves in­to the Brit­ish colon­ies in North Amer­ica and the Carib­bean in­crease nine times to al­most 1.8 mil­lion, while Spain’s share only doubles. The great­er eco­nom­ic sig­ni­fic­ance of the Carib­bean, as com­pared to North Amer­ica, is shown in P. Curtin, The At­lantic Slave Trade: A Census, (Madis­on 1969), p. 134; as late as the out­break of the Amer­ic­an Re­volu­tion, Ja­maica and Bar­ba­dos ac­coun­ted for ca. 50% of all slaves sold in Brit­ish colon­ies, while the south­ern colon­ies of North Amer­ica ac­coun­ted for only 20%.
28 France did con­tin­ue to sup­port at­tempts to re­store the Stu­arts well in­to the eight­eenth cen­tury, and Bri­tain still had to fight ma­jor wars, which in­creas­ingly took on the char­ac­ter of world wars, in which over­seas rivalry with the Span­ish and French em­pires was a ma­jor is­sue, As part of that rivalry, both France and Spain mil­it­ar­ily sup­por­ted the re­bel­lion of the Amer­ic­an colon­ies after 1776. Spain’s em­pire was still ex­pand­ing in the Pa­cific North­w­est as late as 1790, and Thomas Jef­fer­son, after Amer­ic­an in­de­pend­ence, be­lieved ab­sorp­tion of the new United States by Spain (which owned Flor­ida un­til 1820) posed a great­er threat than re­ab­sorp­tion by Bri­tain.
29 Es­tim­ates of total Jews ex­pelled from Spain range between 800,000 and 2 mil­lion. They were ex­pelled in turn from Por­tugal in 1497. Com­bined with the ex­pul­sion of the Muslims after 1492, and the mor­iscos (Muslims who ini­tially re­mained) by 1609, the loss to Span­ish so­ci­ety was a ma­jor factor in Spain’s later eco­nom­ic de­cline.
30 Ex­pelled Jews were known as mar­ranos (swine).
……Of­fi­cially, the only Jews who went to the New World colon­ies of Spain and Por­tugal were the so-called con­ver­sos, or New Chris­ti­ans; the In­quis­i­tion began track­ing them there in 1522. Oth­er Iberi­an (Seph­ard­ic) Jews went to the Neth­er­lands and from there, two or three gen­er­a­tions later, ar­rived in the New World colon­ies of Hol­land.
31 H. Ka­men, in In­quis­i­tion and So­ci­ety in Spain (Bloom­ing­ton, 1985), p. 41, shows that in the ini­tial dec­ades after 1492 the over­whelm­ing ma­jor­ity of vic­tims of the In­quis­i­tion were formerly Jew­ish con­ver­sos, i.e. New Chris­ti­ans; ca. 1530 the net was widened to sus­pec­ted “Luther­ans”; and still later to Muslims (stat­ist­ic­al ta­ble p. 185).
32 Ser­i­ous evid­ence ex­ists for the New Chris­ti­an back­ground of Vives, Vit­or­ia, Lu­is de Le­on, St. Teresa, St. John of the Cross, Gon­gora, Gra­cian, Cer­vantes, and Las Ca­s­as. On the Jew­ish and Ar­ab ele­ments in the work of one of these fig­ures, cf. L. Lopez Baralt, San Juan de la Cruz y el Is­lam, Mex­ico City, 1985.
33 The Spir­itu­al Fran­cis­cans’ view of “apostol­ic poverty” pre­pared them to see in New World in­hab­it­ants people eas­ily won to Chris­tian­ity.
34 This story is told in JL Phelan, The Mil­len­ni­al King­dom of the Fran­cis­cans in the New World, Berke­ley, 1970. The im­pact of Joachim­ite ideas in Mex­ico is also de­scribed in L. Weck­mann, La her­en­cia me­di­ev­al de México, vol. 1, Mex­ico D.F. 1983, pp. 258-268.
35 The mesh­ing of mes­si­an­ic ideas taken from Je­suits, in­clud­ing New Chris­ti­ans, with In­can res­ist­ance to Span­ish rule is de­scribed in A. Flores Galindo, Buscando un Inca: Iden­tidad y utopía en los Andes, Lima, 1988. The Je­suit Vie­ira (1608-1697), draw­ing on the apo­ca­lyptic scheme of his­tory in the Old Test­a­ment proph­ecy of Daniel, foresaw a Por­tuguese-led “fifth em­pire” of “saints,” echoes the Fifth Mon­archy Men of the Eng­lish Re­volu­tion. In fact, Vie­ira was in both Par­is and Lon­don in the 1640s.
36 Al­though not dir­ectly in the Joachim­ite mil­len­ari­an tra­di­tion, Bar­to­lome de las Ca­s­as (1474-1566) dir­ectly chal­lenged the forced labor of In­di­ans more dir­ectly than the mil­len­ari­ans them­selves. Las Ca­s­as was a Span­ish priest (pos­sibly of New Chris­ti­an back­ground) in Cuba who, for over ten years, made his liv­ing off the en­comienda, a sys­tem of In­di­an forced labor, but who in 1514 re­vol­ted against the Span­ish New World sys­tem and de­voted the rest of his life to agit­a­tion against it. He re­turned to Spain and at­temp­ted to win the Church hier­archy to his project of cre­at­ing free labor as­so­ci­ations of Span­iards and In­di­ans. His per­spect­ive was flawed from the be­gin­ning by his pro­pos­al to sub­sti­tute Afric­an slaves for the In­di­ans, a pro­pos­al he ul­ti­mately re­pu­di­ated, but only later. His first ef­forts failed, and he with­drew to a Domin­ic­an mon­as­tery where, for an­oth­er ten years, he sharpened his po­lem­ic­al ar­gu­ments. After the con­quests of Mex­ico and Peru, Las Ca­s­as re­turned to the New World to fur­ther agit­ate against the en­comienda, and to write ma­jor works on the co­lo­ni­al sys­tem and in de­fense of the In­di­ans. In 1542 the Habs­burg em­per­or Charles V is­sued a com­prom­ise in the “New Laws,” which would gradu­ally ab­ol­ish the en­comienda, but even this com­prom­ise led to a re­bel­lion of the colons, in­clud­ing armed re­volt in Peru.
……As bish­op of Chiapas, Las Ca­s­as con­fron­ted Span­ish elites in the New World, try­ing to force the ap­plic­a­tion of the “New Laws,” but Charles V with­drew them to stop the colon re­bel­lion. Las Ca­s­as resigned his po­s­i­tion and re­turned to Spain once and for all. He threw him­self in­to writ­ing, and in 1550-1551 con­fron­ted Gin­er de Sepul­veda in Sala­manca in a de­bate, in front of Charles V, over wheth­er the New World In­di­ans were “slaves by nature” in Ar­is­totle’s sense, and wheth­er evan­gel­iz­a­tion by force was le­git­im­ate. Las Ca­s­as’ de­fense of the nat­ur­al free­dom of all hu­man be­ings, and op­pos­i­tion to the use of force again in­flu­enced le­gis­la­tion, again un­ap­plied. Las Ca­s­as, of the more sober and less apo­ca­lyptic Domin­ic­an or­der, echoed a ver­sion of the Fran­cis­can be­lief in the re­gen­er­a­tion of Chris­tian­ity through the evan­gel­iz­a­tion of the In­di­ans, but by the end of his life lim­ited him­self to ar­guing that the Span­ish crown had a right only to evan­gel­ize in the New World, but was ob­liged to re­spect In­di­an free­dom and prop­erty.
37 There were im­port­ant ex­cep­tions to this. Cath­ol­ic syn­cret­ism, the abil­ity to ap­pro­pri­ate the gods and god­desses of an­oth­er cul­ture in­to the Chris­ti­an pan­theon of saints, has ex­is­ted since the Church’s con­ver­sion of the Greco-Ro­man world. Some of the New Chris­ti­an con­ver­sos in the Fran­cis­can or­der found them­selves fas­cin­ated with Aztec and May­an cul­ture — bey­ond the mere needs of evan­gel­iz­a­tion. Their story is told in Sanders, op. cit., Ch. 16. The Je­suits also claimed to find evid­ence that the apostle Thomas, after evan­gel­iz­ing in In­dia, had con­tin­ued on to Mex­ico; this was cru­cial to them be­cause it over­came the em­bar­rass­ing six­teenth-cen­tury time lag in the ar­rival of the word of God in the New World. This is an­oth­er demon­stra­tion of the re­li­gious be­lief in the unity of hu­man­ity which had to be over­come be­fore any race the­ory was pos­sible “(the Span­iards’)… world sys­tem, foun­ded on rev­el­a­tion, and their very re­li­gion would col­lapse if the Bible had lied or simply omit­ted men­tion of Amer­ica; ig­nor­ance, for­get­ful­ness, and in­justice on the part of God were all equally un­ten­able. If there ex­is­ted a pos­it­ive truth in­de­pend­ent of re­vealed truth, all European thought, from St. Au­gustine to Suarez, must go out the win­dow.” J. La­faye, Queztalcóatl and Guada­lupe: The Form­a­tion of Mex­ic­an Na­tion­al Con­scious­ness (Chica­go, 1976), pg. 186 and ch. 10 gen­er­ally.
38 Six­teenth and sev­en­teenth cen­tury at­tacks on slavery fo­cused on ex­cesses of cruelty and vi­ol­ence, not on the prac­tice as such. See DB Dav­is, The Prob­lem of Slavery in West­ern Cul­ture (Cor­nell UP, 1966), pp. 189-196). As late as the fif­teenth cen­tury, the Palermo slave mar­ket sold Greeks, Ar­abs, Slavs, Tar­tars, Turks, Cir­cas­si­ans, Rus­si­ans, and Bul­gari­ans (Ver­linden, op. cit. p. 385); in the six­teenth cen­tury, the ma­jor­ity of the slaves in Spain and Por­tugal were what today would be called “white.”
39 Bernal Diaz, a com­pan­ion of Cor­tes, de­scribes the awe of the Span­iards upon first glimpsing Tenoch­tit­lan, the Aztec cap­it­al, (which may have had as many as a mil­lion in­hab­it­ants in 1519), and how they in­stinct­ively reached for im­agery of fant­ast­ic cit­ies from the chiv­al­ric ro­mance Amadis of Gaul (1505) to find par­al­lels in their own cul­ture. (cf. B. Diaz del Castillo, His­tor­ia de la Con­quista de Nueva España, Mex­ico D.F., 1980, p. 159).
40 A vast lit­er­at­ure ex­ists on this sub­ject. Prob­ably the best book, out­rageously nev­er trans­lated in­to Eng­lish, is G. Gliozzi’s Adamo e il nuovo mondo (Florence, 1977), whose sub­title, “From Bib­lic­al Gene­a­lo­gies to Ra­cial The­or­ies (1500-1700),” could not more con­cisely sum­mar­ize the thes­is of this art­icle. Gliozzi shows that the concept of race could not ex­ist un­til sci­entif­ic cri­tique, be­gin­ning with Bib­lic­al cri­ti­cism, had swept away all the leg­acy of ex­plan­a­tion in the Greco-Ro­man and Judeo-Chris­ti­an streams of West­ern cul­ture. A com­par­able, but less com­pre­hens­ive per­spect­ive is found in A. Grafton, New Worlds, An­cient Texts: The Power of Tra­di­tion and the Shock of Dis­cov­ery (Cam­bridge, 1992). On the im­pact of New World bio­logy and bot­any, cf. A. Gerbi, Nature in the New World, Pitt­s­burgh 1985.
41 R. Sanders, op. cit. p. 187.
42 R. Wauchope, Lost Tribes and Sunken Con­tin­ents: Myth and Meth­od in the Study of the Amer­ic­an In­di­ans (Chica­go, 1962), p. 53. Cf. pp. 53-59 for the his­tory of the the­ory, which was still held in early nine­teenth-cen­tury Amer­ica, and had been sup­por­ted by Ro­ger Wil­li­ams, John Eli­ot, Wil­li­am Penn, and the Math­ers; it is still held today by the Mor­mons.
43 Sanders, op. cit. Ch. 30 tells the story of Menas­seh’s book; the the­ory con­vinced John Eli­ot, in Mas­sachu­setts, to trans­late the Bible in­to Al­gon­quin.
44 Ibid. p. 371. “It was an em­pire than the Eng­lish were not in­her­it­ing from the Span­iards, by way of the Dutch, so why not in­her­it the ser­vices of their Jews as well?”
45 In fact, La Peyrere (1596-1676) knew Menas­seh ben Is­rael per­son­ally.
La Peyrere was from a Bor­deaux Prot­est­ant fam­ily and, ac­cord­ing to one ma­jor study, was prob­ably yet an­oth­er Mar­rano. R. Pop­kin, Isaac la Peyrere (Leiden, 1987, pp. 22-23). His early work was right in the line of Joachim­ite proph­ecy, ex­cept that, of course, it was the French king (and not, as Vie­ira as­ser­ted, the Por­tuguese) who would con­vert the Jews and lead them back to the re­cap­tured Holy Land. Even after his re­pu­di­ation of Pre-Ad­am­it­ae, he con­tin­ued to de­fend its theses privately.
46 Ac­cord­ing to Pop­kin (op. cit., p. 14) both the Pope and the Gen­er­al of the Je­suit or­der, in private, had found La Peyrere’s book quite en­ter­tain­ing.
47 Ibid. p. 39. The com­plex fate of the theses of Pre-Ad­am­it­ae, from the En­light­en­ment up to the present, is told on pp. 115-176, its im­me­di­ate im­pact in Eng­land is de­scribed in Gliozzi, op. cit. pp. 565-621.
48 Here, in­deed, is a pre­de­cessor that con­tem­por­ary “dif­fer­ence” the­or­ists have over­looked.
49 Quoted in M. Hodgen, Early An­thro­po­logy in the Six­teenth and Sev­en­teen Cen­tur­ies (Phil­adelphia, 1964), pp. 421-422.
50 A. Gerbi, The Dis­pute of the New World: The His­tory of a Po­lem­ic, 1750-1900 (Pitt­s­burgh, 1973) is a re­mark­able sur­vey of En­light­en­ment thinkers such as Buffon and de Pauw and their be­lief that not only hu­mans, but also plants and an­im­als, de­gen­er­ated in the cli­mate of the New World.
51 One read­er of part one cri­ti­cized it for Euro­centrism, be­cause it over­looked earli­er col­or-coded ra­cial sys­tems in oth­er cul­tures, cit­ing in par­tic­u­lar the case of the In­di­an caste sys­tem as it was im­posed by the Indo-European (formerly called “Ary­an”) in­vaders of the sub­con­tin­ent ca. 1500 BC. Since my ar­gu­ment was that race as an idea could not ap­pear un­til ra­tion­al­ist and sci­entif­ic cri­tique up to the mid-sev­en­teenth cen­tury had over­thrown myth­ic­al and re­li­gious views of man to ar­rive at a bio­lo­gic­al view, this ob­jec­tion seemed highly un­likely. The the­or­et­ic­al found­a­tion of the In­di­an caste sys­tem does cor­rel­ate the four “varnas” (which means, among oth­er things, col­or) with the four castes. But the hier­archy of “varnas” in In­dia is in­sep­ar­able from a sim­il­ar hier­archy of “pur­ity/im­pur­ity” which des­cends from the Brah­mins at the top to the Sudras at the bot­tom, not to men­tion the un­touch­ables who are not even in­cluded in the sys­tem. And “pur­ity” for a caste is con­nec­ted to ac­tion (karma), in this life as in pre­vi­ous ones; thus the Hindu sys­tem con­ceives of someone’s birth in the Brah­min caste as the con­sequence of “pure” ac­tion, and their abil­ity to stay there the res­ult of on­go­ing “pure” ac­tion, (where­as the Sudra have com­mit­ted “im­pure” ac­tion) something totally dif­fer­ent from a race sys­tem, where no one ac­quires or loses skin col­or by ac­tion.
……As Oliv­er Cox puts it: “The writers who use mod­ern ideas of race re­la­tions for the pur­pose of ex­plain­ing the ori­gin of caste make an un­crit­ic­al trans­fer of mod­ern thought to an age which did not know it. The early Indo-Ary­ans could no more have thought in mod­ern terms of race pre­ju­dice than they could have in­ven­ted the air­plane. The so­cial factors ne­ces­sary for think­ing in mod­ern terms of race re­la­tions were not avail­able. It took some two thou­sand more years to de­vel­op these ideas in West­ern so­ci­ety, and whatever there is of them in In­dia today has been ac­quired by re­cent dif­fu­sion.” See Caste, Class, and Race (New York, 1959), p. 91.
52 Part one of this art­icle, “From An­ti­semit­ism to White Su­prem­acy, Pre-En­light­en­ment Phase: Spain, Jews, and In­di­ans (1492-1676),” ar­gued that the first known ra­cist so­cial prac­tices were the “blood pur­ity” laws cre­ated against Span­ish Je­w­ry in the mid-fif­teenth cen­tury. As a res­ult, many Jews con­ver­ted to Chris­tian­ity where, as so-called “New Chris­ti­ans,” they entered the Fran­cis­can, Je­suit, and Domin­ic­an or­ders of the Cath­ol­ic Church where their own mes­si­an­ism mixed with Chris­ti­an heretic­al ideas in the evan­gel­iz­a­tion of the peoples of the New World. One wide­spread view, among many the­or­ies taken from Greco-Ro­man and Judeo-Chris­ti­an sources, held that the New World peoples were des­cen­ded from the Lost Tribes of Is­rael. These the­or­ies were de­bated for 150 years un­til the French Prot­est­ant Isaac La Peyrere pub­lished a book, The Pre Ad­am­ites (1655), in which he ar­gued from in­tern­al in­con­sist­en­cies in the Old Test­a­ment that there had been people be­fore Adam. While La Peyrere him­self was still com­pletely in the mes­si­an­ic tra­di­tion and still be­lieved in the theo­lo­gic­al as­ser­tion of the unity of man­kind, oth­ers used his the­ory to ar­gue that Afric­ans and New World In­di­ans were dif­fer­ent spe­cies. Sir Wil­li­am Petty, in his Scale of Creatures (1676), made the link between skin col­or and cul­ture, thereby the­or­iz­ing for the first time what had be­gun in prac­tice in Spain more than two cen­tur­ies earli­er. It is in this way that the idea of race and the En­light­en­ment came in­to ex­ist­ence sim­ul­tan­eously.)
……Part one defined “race” as the as­so­ci­ation of cul­tur­al at­trib­utes with bio­logy, as it first ap­peared in early mod­ern an­ti­semit­ism in Spain’s his­tor­ic­ally un­pre­ced­en­ted fif­teenth-cen­tury “blood pur­ity” laws. This as­so­ci­ation was then trans­ferred to the In­di­an pop­u­la­tion of Spain’s New World em­pire, and then gen­er­al­ized through the North At­lantic world to le­git­im­ate the Afric­an slave trade, which greatly in­tens­i­fied in the late sev­en­teenth cen­tury just as the En­light­en­ment was be­gin­ning. But this evol­u­tion did not just hap­pen. For 150 years after 1492, Europeans sifted through all the myths and le­gends of their Greco-Ro­man and Judeo-Chris­ti­an past to find an ex­plan­a­tion for pre­vi­ously un­known peoples in a pre­vi­ously un­known world. They saw in New World peoples the sur­viv­ors of Pla­to’s At­lantis, des­cend­ants of a Phoen­i­cian voy­age or King Ar­thur’s re­treat to the Isle of Avalon, or fi­nally as the Lost Tribes of Is­rael. By the mid-sev­en­teenth cen­tury, ra­tion­al­ist cri­tique of the Bible and of myth ripped away these fant­ast­ic pro­jec­tions, and in­ad­vert­ently des­troyed the idea of the com­mon ori­gin of hu­man­ity in the Garden of Eden. By 1676, sim­ul­tan­eous with the mul­tiracial Ba­con’s Re­bel­lion in Vir­gin­ia and the Pur­it­an ex­term­in­a­tion of the In­di­ans of New Eng­land in King Philip’s War, Sir Wil­li­am Petty ar­tic­u­lated a new view, re­leg­at­ing peoples of col­or to an in­ter­me­di­ate “sav­age” status between hu­man be­ings and an­im­als.
53 Fig­ures who ar­tic­u­lated the pre­vi­ously heretic­al “ac­tu­al in­fin­ity” in the 1450-1650 peri­od, in theo­lo­gic­al and then philo­soph­ic­al form, were Nich­olas of Cusa, Giord­ano Bruno, Baruch Spinoza, and Gottfried Wil­helm Leib­n­iz.
54 “The bour­geois­ie can­not ex­ist without con­stantly re­vo­lu­tion­iz­ing the in­stru­ments of pro­duc­tion, and thereby the re­la­tions of pro­duc­tion, and with them whole re­la­tions of so­ci­ety” (Com­mun­ist Mani­festo).
55 Im­prove­ments, such as in­ven­tions, in the an­cient world, were made haphaz­ardly, and were of­ten viewed as curi­os­it­ies, not something to be so­cially ap­plied in a sys­tem­at­ic way, or were even shunned be­cause of the threat they posed to ex­ist­ing so­cial re­la­tions.
56 Karl Marx, Grundrisse (1973 ed.), p. 325.
57 Petty’s book is the first known West­ern source which both over­throws the Chris­ti­an idea of the unity of man and also con­nects bio­lo­gic­al fea­tures to a col­or-coded race hier­archy. Quoted in M. Hodgen, Early An­thro­po­logy in the Six­teenth and Sev­en­teenth Cen­tur­ies (Phil­adelphia, 1964), pgs. 421-422.
58 I. Geiss, Geschichte des Rassismus (Frank­furt, 1988), p. 142. Geiss sees Hume as the first En­light­en­ment fig­ure (in 1753-54) who spe­cific­ally the­or­izes a ra­cist hier­archy of col­or (p. 149); he does not seem to be fa­mil­i­ar with Petty’s text. I. Han­na­ford’s Race: The His­tory of an Idea in the West (Johns Hop­kins, 1996) sur­veys the same peri­od, with some­what dif­fer­ent judg­ments (cf. Ch. 7), and sees the main break oc­cur­ring with Hobbes.
59 In 1780, dur­ing the re­volu­tion, Pennsylvania, with its large Quaker pres­ence, be­came the first North Amer­ic­an colony to ab­ol­ish slavery.
60 E. Chuk­wudi Eze’s Race and the En­light­en­ment (New York, 1996) is a use­ful com­pen­di­um of little-known texts by Blu­men­bach, Hume, Kant, Hegel, and oth­er fig­ures, mainly ex­press­ing white su­prem­acist dis­dain for Afric­ans and Afric­an cul­ture. In my opin­ion, these texts mainly demon­strate that Hume, Kant, and Hegel ex­pressed the lim­it­a­tions of their time, and in no way shows any race-linked im­plic­a­tions of the philo­soph­ic­al works we still read today.
61 Fig­ures such as Hobbes, Locke, or Hume were all sus­pec­ted of rad­ic­al athe­ism by the con­ven­tion­al middle-class opin­ion of their time, still tied to of­fi­cial re­li­gion. They were in real­ity mod­er­ates, deeply hos­tile to rad­ic­al pop­u­lar forces, many of which still spoke a re­li­gious lan­guage. The “left to right” spec­trum of the sev­en­teenth and eight­eenth cen­tur­ies in no way, par­tic­u­larly in the Anglo-Amer­ic­an world, aligns it­self neatly with dis­tinc­tions between the “sec­u­lar” and the “re­li­gious,” as the ex­amples such as the Dig­ger Ger­ard Win­stan­ley or Wil­li­am Blake clearly show. The main­stream En­light­en­ment al­ways op­posed the “an­ti­no­mi­an” so­cial rad­ic­al­ism as­so­ci­ated with such fig­ures. Cf. M. Jac­obs, The New­to­ni­ans and the Eng­lish Re­volu­tion (1976).
62 CLR James, The Black Jac­obins (New York, 1963), pp. 120, 138-139.
63 The great ma­jor­ity of En­light­en­ment fig­ures lim­ited their polit­ic­al aims to a con­sti­tu­tion­al mon­archy on the post-1688 Eng­lish mod­el or to a vis­ion of be­nign top-down re­form by En­lightened ab­so­lut­ist des­pots; the pro­clam­a­tion of a Re­pub­lic in France in 1791 was the res­ult of the prac­tic­al rad­ic­al­iz­a­tion of the polit­ic­al situ­ation there and throughout Europe, not a pre­con­ceived ap­plic­a­tion of En­light­en­ment ideas.
64 The rad­ic­al wing of the French Re­volu­tion, the Parisi­an masses, was crushed in 1794; by the Jac­obins, who were in turn over­thrown by mod­er­ates; after Na­po­leon’s seizure of power in 1799, France re­stored slavery in all its pos­ses­sions and lost 50,000 sol­diers in a failed at­tempt to sub­due Santo Domin­go. In 1848, when cap­it­al­ism and the pro­let­ari­at were more ad­vanced, a new French re­volu­tion (part of a European-wide up­ris­ing) oc­curred and fi­nally suc­ceeded in ab­ol­ish­ing slavery in the colon­ies, after Eng­land had done so in 1834.
65 Hegel’s fun­da­ment­al idea that “the real is ra­tion­al” comes dir­ectly out of his ana­lys­is of the French Re­volu­tion. In con­trast to even the best of the En­light­en­ment, Hegel (hav­ing the ex­ample of the re­volu­tion be­fore him, as the En­light­en­ment did not) was the first to un­der­stand (even if he did not use this lan­guage) the “so­ci­olo­gic­al” truth that a so­cial class (e.g. the Parisi­an pro­let­ari­at) is not a “cat­egory” but an act, and that the “truth” of any so­cial class (i.e. the “real”) is not its own day-to-day hum­drum self-un­der­stand­ing in “nor­mal con­di­tions” of op­pres­sion but the ex­tremity of what it has the po­ten­tial to be­come (“the ra­tion­al”) at cru­cial turn­ing points (gen­er­ally called re­volu­tions). Hegel’s own late con­ser­vat­ism and that of his fol­low­ers turned the mean­ing of “the real is ra­tion­al” in­to a simple apo­logy for the ex­ist­ing status quo, cut­ting the rad­ic­al heart out of Hegel’s ori­gin­al mean­ing of “the real.”
66 The En­light­en­ment (at the great risk of over­sim­pli­fic­a­tion) con­ceived ab­stractly of Man as “nat­ur­al man,” en­dowed with reas­on, and en­dowed with “rights of man” by “nat­ur­al law.” The coun­ter­part of this was a con­cep­tion of so­ci­et­ies as ini­tially formed by in­di­vidu­als who came to­geth­er in some kind of “so­cial con­tract”; En­light­en­ment the­ory thus as­sumed in­di­vidu­als who ini­tially ex­is­ted in­de­pend­ently from so­ci­ety and his­tory. So­ci­ety was the “sum” of such in­di­vidu­als. It was a com­pletely ahis­tor­ic­al view, which is one reas­on the En­light­en­ment was so pre­oc­cu­pied with uto­pi­as in dis­tant places, in which Man could be por­trayed in har­mony with (stat­ic) “nature,” and with New World In­di­ans or Tahi­tians, who sup­posedly re­vealed Man “in Nature,” or with the “wild child” raised out­side all so­cial in­sti­tu­tions. “All men once lived as they live in Amer­ica,” said John Locke, re­fer­ring to the Amer­ic­an In­di­an. The En­light­en­ment was also pre­oc­cu­pied with draw­ing up con­sti­tu­tions (as Locke did for the Car­o­lina colony in North Amer­ica, or Rousseau for Po­land), as if so­cial in­sti­tu­tions were de­rived from, or could be de­rived from, “first prin­ciples,” and were not, as Vico first ar­gued, a factum, the product of activ­ity. En­light­en­ment so­cial thought had an ideal to real­ize, a hu­man nature that could be dis­tilled and iden­ti­fied sep­ar­ate from so­ci­ety and his­tory. Thus Rousseau could con­ceive this ideal of Man as something to ap­proach but nev­er be achieved, the so­cial equi­val­ent of New­ton’s bad in­fin­ity.
67 Cf. the in­valu­able book of A. Chase, The Leg­acy of Malthus: The So­cial Costs of the New Sci­entif­ic Ra­cism, New York, 1980, par­tic­u­larly Ch. 4. Space does not per­mit a full dis­cus­sion of the in­flu­ence of Malthu­s­i­an ideo­logy today. I will lim­it my­self to point­ing out that John Maynard Keynes, the the­or­eti­cian of the post-1945 wel­fare state, ex­pli­citly iden­ti­fied him­self as a Malthu­s­i­an. Keynes ob­vi­ously was not op­posed to a min­im­um wage, wel­fare meas­ures or con­tra­cep­tion; what he shared with Malthus was the idea that the buy­ing power of un­pro­duct­ive classes should be in­creased to avoid peri­od­ic de­pres­sions. Malthus and Keynes had in com­mon a “con­sumer’s” view of the eco­nomy, as­sum­ing that if de­mand were main­tained, pro­duc­tion would take care of it­self. But the un­der­ly­ing world view of both Malthus and Keynes, as the­or­eti­cians of the un­pro­duct­ive middle classes, had the ne­ces­sary co­rol­lary of “use­less eat­ers,” which in the aus­ter­ity con­di­tions of the post-1973 peri­od in the US have mixed with clas­sic­al ra­cism to pro­duce a “con­ser­vat­ive-lib­er­al” con­sensus for the ab­ol­i­tion of Amer­ica’s (min­im­al­ist) wel­fare state. Bill Moy­ers’ re­port­age on teen­age par­ent­ing among Amer­ic­an wel­fare pop­u­la­tions was clas­sic­al Malthu­s­i­an pro­pa­ganda about the “promis­cu­ous poor” from a “lib­er­al” view­point.
68 One may read­ily un­der­stand the dis­tinc­tion between labor and labor power by the re­cent ex­ample of the “new in­dus­tri­al coun­tries” (NICs) such as South Korea. Cases such as this are not merely a ques­tion of drop­ping some factor­ies in­to a peas­ant eco­nomy. South Korea emerged over thirty-five years from an ex­tremely poor, pre­dom­in­antly rur­al, Third World coun­try to one which ex­ports high-qual­ity tech­no­lo­gic­al goods and even con­ducts its own re­search and de­vel­op­ment de­part­ments. This was made pos­sible by many things, but among them were the cre­ation of an in­fra­struc­ture (trans­port­a­tion, com­mu­nic­a­tions, en­ergy sys­tems) and above all a skilled work force cap­able of op­er­a­tion mod­ern factor­ies. South Korea in 1960 had an abund­ance of in labor, but des­per­ately short of labor power.
69 After be­ing largely mar­gin­al­ized by of­fi­cial cul­ture in the US, many of these au­thors were trans­lated in­to French in the 1970s where they con­trib­uted to the rise of the anti-im­mig­rant Na­tion­al Front, which openly pro­claims white su­prem­acy in its pub­lic ut­ter­ances.
70 Paglia at­tacks fifties and six­ties left cul­tur­al­ism for over­look­ing the “dark” bio­lo­gic­al side of sexu­al­ity; De­g­ler an­nounces his con­ver­sion to the “re­turn of bio­logy” in In Search of Hu­man Nature: The De­cline and Re­viv­al of Dar­win­ism in Amer­ic­an So­cial Thought (New York, 1991).
71 Gobineau’s book, The In­equal­ity of the Races, which be­came the mani­festo of late nine­teenth-cen­tury Ary­an su­prem­acy, was first pub­lished in 1853.
72 T. Gos­sett, Race: The His­tory of an Idea in Amer­ica (New York, 1963), Ch. XIII, tells the story of Anglo-Sax­on race the­ory. Gos­sett also traces the his­tory of the poly­gen­et­ic the­ory of races, as dis­cussed in Part One of this art­icle, through the nine­teenth cen­tury in Ch. IV.
73 A dense sur­vey of this his­tory is in A. Chase, The Leg­acy of Malthus: The So­cial Costs of the New Sci­entif­ic Ra­cism (New York, 1980).
74 Cf. Robert Al­len, Re­luct­ant Re­formers: Ra­cism and So­cial Re­form Move­ments in the United States (New York, 1975), Ch. 5.
75 Ibid. p. 223-227.


Materialism, postmodernity, and Enlightenment

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Jac­obin pub­lished an art­icle just over a week ago en­titled “Ali­ens, An­ti­semit­ism, and Aca­de­mia,” writ­ten by Landon Frim and Har­ris­on Fluss. “Alt-right con­spir­acy the­or­ists have em­braced post­mod­ern philo­sophy,” the au­thors ob­serve, and re­com­mend that “the Left should re­turn to the En­light­en­ment to op­pose their ir­ra­tion­al and hate­ful polit­ics.” While the ar­gu­ment in the body of the text is a bit more nu­anced, re­fer­ring to the uni­ver­sal­ist­ic egal­it­ari­an “roots of En­light­en­ment ra­tion­al­ity,” the two-sen­tence con­dens­a­tion above the byline at least has the vir­tue of blunt­ness. The rest of the piece is fairly me­dio­cre, as per usu­al, a rather un­ob­jec­tion­able point de­livered in a flat pop­u­lar style. Fluss and Frim strike me as ly­ing some­where between Do­men­ico Los­urdo and Zer­stö­rung der Ver­nun­ft-vin­tage Georg Lukács, minus the Stal­in­oid polit­ics. But the gen­er­al thrust of their art­icle is sound, draw­ing at­ten­tion to an­oth­er, more ori­gin­al cur­rent of thought that arises from the same source as the ir­ra­tion­al­ist ideo­lo­gies which op­pose it — i.e., from cap­it­al­ist mod­ern­ity. Plus it in­cludes some amus­ing tid­bits about this Jason Reza Jor­jani char­ac­ter they went to school with, whose ideas eli­cit a mor­bid fas­cin­a­tion in me. Gos­sip is al­ways fun.

Is it pos­sible to “re­turn to the En­light­en­ment,” however? Some say the past is nev­er dead, of course, that it isn’t even past. Even if by­gone modes of thought sur­vive in­to the present, em­bed­ded in its un­con­scious or en­shrined in prom­in­ent con­sti­tu­tions and leg­al codes, this hardly means that the so­cial con­di­tions which brought them in­to ex­ist­en­ce still ob­tain. One may in­sist on un­timely med­it­a­tions that cut against the grain of one’s epoch, chal­len­ging its thought-ta­boos and re­ceived wis­dom, but no one ever en­tirely es­capes it. So it is with the En­light­en­ment, which now must seem a dis­tant memory to most. Karl Marx already by the mid-nine­teenth cen­tury was seen by many of his con­tem­por­ar­ies as a com­pos­ite of thinkers is­su­ing from the Auf­klä­rung. Moses Hess wrote en­thu­si­ast­ic­ally to Ber­thold Auerbach about the young re­volu­tion­ary from Tri­er: “You will meet in him the greatest — per­haps the only genu­ine — philo­soph­er of our gen­er­a­tion, who’ll give schol­asti­cism and me­di­ev­al theo­logy their coup de grâce; he com­bines the deep­est in­tel­lec­tu­al ser­i­ous­ness with the most bit­ing wit. Ima­gine Rousseau, Voltaire, Hol­bach, Less­ing, Heine, and Hegel fused in­to one per­son (I say fused, not jux­ta­posed) and you have Marx.” Though steeped in the an­cients, he was also a great ad­mirer of mod­ern po­ets and play­wrights like Shakespeare and Goethe. Denis Di­derot was Marx’s fa­vor­ite polit­ic­al writer.

Cer­tainly, Marx and his fol­low­ers were heirs to the En­light­en­ment project of eman­cip­a­tion. Louis Men­and has stressed the qual­it­at­ive break­through he achieved, however, along with En­gels and sub­se­quent Marx­ists. Ac­cord­ing to Men­and, “Marx and En­gels were phi­lo­sophes of a second En­light­en­ment.” What was it they dis­covered? Noth­ing less than His­tory, in the em­phat­ic sense:

In pre­mod­ern so­ci­et­ies, the ends of life are giv­en at the be­gin­ning of life: people do things in their gen­er­a­tion so that the same things will con­tin­ue to be done in the next gen­er­a­tion. Mean­ing is im­man­ent in all the or­din­ary cus­toms and prac­tices of ex­ist­en­ce, since these are in­her­ited from the past, and are there­fore worth re­pro­du­cing. The idea is to make the world go not for­ward, only around. In mod­ern so­ci­et­ies, the ends of life are not giv­en at the be­gin­ning of life; they are thought to be cre­ated or dis­covered. The re­pro­duc­tion of the cus­toms and prac­tices of the group is no longer the chief pur­pose of ex­ist­en­ce; the idea is not to re­peat, but to change, to move the world for­ward. Mean­ing is no longer im­man­ent in the prac­tices of or­din­ary life, since those prac­tices are un­der­stood by every­one to be con­tin­gent and time­bound. This is why death in mod­ern so­ci­et­ies is the great ta­boo, an ab­surdity, the worst thing one can ima­gine. For at the close of life people can­not look back and know that they have ac­com­plished the task set for them at birth. This know­ledge al­ways lies up ahead, some­where over his­tory’s ho­ri­zon. Mod­ern so­ci­et­ies don’t know what will count as valu­able in the con­duct of life in the long run, be­cause they have no way of know­ing what con­duct the long run will find it­self in a po­s­i­tion to re­spect. The only cer­tain know­ledge death comes with is the know­ledge that the val­ues of one’s own time, the val­ues one has tried to live by, are ex­pun­ge­able. Marx­ism gave a mean­ing to mod­ern­ity. It said that, wit­tingly or not, the in­di­vidu­al per­forms a role in a drama that has a shape and a goal, a tra­ject­ory, and that mod­ern­ity will turn out to be just one act in that drama. His­tor­ic­al change is not ar­bit­rary. It is gen­er­ated by class con­flict; it is faith­ful to an in­ner lo­gic; it points to­ward an end, which is the es­tab­lish­ment of the class­less so­ci­ety.

Ed­mund Wilson like­wise saw this drama in nar­rat­ive terms. That is to say, he un­der­stood it as hav­ing a be­gin­ning, middle, and end. Wilson gave an ac­count of this dra­mat­ic se­quence in his 1940 mas­ter­piece To the Fin­land Sta­tion, for which Men­and wrote the above pas­sage as a pre­face. It began in Par­is in the last dec­ade of the eight­eenth cen­tury. (Per­haps a long pro­logue in­volving murky sub­ter­ranean forces that took shape un­der feud­al­ism could also be in­cluded, as fis­sures open up and sw­al­low it whole). After this first act, though, a fresh set of dramatis per­sonae take the stage. Loren Gold­ner ex­plains that “it was not in France but rather in Ger­many over the next sev­er­al dec­ades that philo­soph­ers, above all Hegel, would the­or­ize the ac­tions of the Par­isi­an masses in­to a new polit­ics which went bey­ond the En­light­en­ment and laid the found­a­tions for the com­mun­ist move­ment later ar­tic­u­lated by Marx… This real­iz­a­tion of the En­light­en­ment, as the re­volu­tion ebbed, was at the same time the end of the En­light­en­ment. It could only be salvaged by fig­ures such as Hegel and Marx.” Bur­ied be­neath re­ac­tion, the lu­min­ous dream of bour­geois so­ci­ety would have to en­dure the night­mare of in­dus­tri­al­iz­a­tion be­fore ar­riv­ing with Len­in in Pet­ro­grad. Among Len­in’s first ex­ec­ut­ive acts after the Bolshev­ik seizure of power in Oc­to­ber 1917 was to or­gan­ize a Com­mis­sari­at of En­light­en­ment [Ко­мис­са­ри­ат про­све­ще­ния], where his sis­ter Maria would work un­der his long­time friend and com­rade Anato­ly Lun­acharsky.

Set­backs would oc­cur along the way. Marx made clear that his vis­ion of his­tory was not some in­eluct­able lin­ear path to­ward pro­gress, as en­vi­sioned by En­lightened re­volu­tion­ar­ies such as Con­dor­cet: “Bour­geois re­volu­tions such as those of the eight­eenth cen­tury storm swiftly from suc­cess to suc­cess, their dra­mat­ic ef­fects outdo each oth­er, but their res­ults are short-lived… On the oth­er hand, pro­let­ari­an re­volu­tions of the those of the nine­teenth cen­tury, con­stantly cri­ti­cize them­selves, in­ter­rupt­ing them­selves in their own course, re­turn­ing to the ap­par­ently ac­com­plished, in or­der to be­gin anew. They de­ride with cruel thor­ough­ness the half-meas­ures, weak­nesses, and pal­tri­ness of their first at­tempts un­til a situ­ation is cre­ated which makes all turn­ing back im­pos­sible and con­di­tions them­selves call out: Hic Rho­dus, hic salta!” Rosa Lux­em­burg quoted these lines some sixty years later, adding: “The mod­ern pro­let­ari­at comes out of his­tor­ic­al tests dif­fer­ently [than the bour­geois­ie]. Its tasks and its er­rors are both gi­gant­ic: no pre­scrip­tion, no schema val­id for every case, no in­fal­lible lead­er to show it the path to fol­low. His­tor­ic­al ex­per­i­en­ce is its only school­mis­tress, its thorny way to self-eman­cip­a­tion paved not only with im­meas­ur­able suf­fer­ing but also with count­less er­rors… Its eman­cip­a­tion de­pends on wheth­er the it can learn from its own er­rors. Self-cri­ti­cism, re­morse­less, cruel, and go­ing to the core of things is the life’s breath and light of the pro­let­ari­an move­ment.”

To­ward the end of his life, in 1965, Isaac Deutscher pro­fessed his con­tin­ued be­lief in “the Marxi­an Weltan­schauung.” He asked: “Is [ours] an age of the as­cend­ancy of Marx­ism or its de­cline?” Des­pite everything, the great bio­graph­er of Trot­sky main­tained that “Marx­ism is not an in­tel­lec­tu­al, aes­thet­ic, or philo­soph­ic­al fash­ion, no mat­ter what the fash­ion-mon­gers ima­gine. After hav­ing been in­fatu­ated with it for a sea­son or two, some might de­clare it to be ob­sol­ete. Marx­ism is a way of think­ing, however, a gen­er­al­iz­a­tion grow­ing out of an im­mense his­tor­ic­al de­vel­op­ment. So long as this his­tor­ic phase in which we live has not been left far be­hind us, the doc­trine may prove to be mis­taken on points of de­tail or sec­ond­ary points. But in its es­sence noth­ing has de­prived it of its rel­ev­ance, val­id­ity, and vital im­port­ance for the fu­ture.” Nev­er­the­less, Deutscher could sense the de­cay all around him, the de­gen­er­a­tion and vul­gar­iza­tion of Marx­ist thought. Vic­tory no longer seemed as­sured. Con­di­tions were by then over­ripe; the pro­pi­tious mo­ment had passed. It was pre­cisely the col­lapse of Marx­ism’s “grand metanar­rat­ive” dur­ing the 1970s that led an ex-Marx­ist like Lyo­tard to her­ald the on­set of the post­mod­ern age: “Grand nar­rat­ives have lost their cred­ib­il­ity, re­gard­less of wheth­er it is a spec­u­lat­ive [Hegel­i­an] nar­rat­ive or a [Marx­ist] nar­rat­ive of eman­cip­a­tion… We no longer have re­course to the grand nar­rat­ives. Neither the dia­lectic of Spir­it nor even the eman­cip­a­tion of hu­man­ity can serve as val­id­a­tion for post­mod­ern dis­course.”

Fluss and Frim seek to beat back this scourge by ap­peal­ing to the ghost of En­light­en­ment, or else by con­jur­ing up its ideal premises. As­ad Haid­er’s re­sponse in View­point keys in on this cent­ral weak­ness in their ex­pos­i­tion, all the more glar­ing in the work of the his­tor­i­an Jonath­an Is­rael (whose in­flu­en­ce on Fluss and Frim is ob­vi­ous, if un­ac­know­ledged). In their ar­gu­ments, the “En­light­en­ment prin­ciples of uni­ver­sal reas­on and equal­ity” they cham­pi­on seem to flow from the minds of philo­soph­ers rather than the so­cial and his­tor­ic con­di­tions that sur­roun­ded them. Haid­er re­peatedly cri­ti­cizes the man­ner in which Is­rael, Fluss, and Frim as­sign caus­al ef­fic­acy to ideas, quip­ping that “for lib­er­al and even so­cial­ist in­tel­lec­tu­als today with a high opin­ion of their own ideas, ideal­ist his­tory serves as a sooth­ing man­tra.” Still, the ap­par­ent “para­dox of an ideal­ist his­tory of ma­ter­i­al­ism,” a phrase Haid­er bor­rows from Ant­oine Lilti, is any­thing but. Per­haps the most renowned Ge­schich­te des Ma­ter­i­al­is­mus was the one com­piled by Friedrich Al­bert Lange in 1866, in just such an ideal­ist (spe­cif­ic­ally neo-Kan­tian) vein. Lange’s ac­count of ma­ter­i­al­ism may be symp­to­mat­ic of the tend­ency to dis­count the philo­soph­ic­al con­tent of Marx­ism, but there’s noth­ing para­dox­ic­al about it. There are plenty of elisions in Fluss and Frim’s piece that could be eas­ily un­covered: for ex­ample, the naïve con­trast they set up between Counter­en­light­en­ment fig­ures like Jac­obi and Ham­a­nn on the one hand — both of them “found something sus­pi­ciously Jew­ish about European ra­tion­al­ism” — and Hegel on the oth­er. Jac­obi and Hegel en­gaged in bit­ter po­lem­ics back in 1802, but were re­con­ciled after the lat­ter fa­vor­ably re­viewed volume three of the former’s col­lec­ted works in 1816 (around the time Hegel ap­pre­ci­at­ively re­vis­ited the works of Ham­a­nn in sev­er­al art­icles). None of this is raised by Haid­er, though to be fair he has Oth­er fish to fry.

Dis­ap­point­ingly, moreover, Haid­er is oth­er­wise con­tent to re­hash the post­mod­ern­ist in­ter­lude of the last thirty or so odd years (as well as the “ma­ter­i­al­ist” im­pulse to sal­vage it, for some un­known reas­on). Michel Fou­cault’s an­swer to the ques­tion “What is En­light­en­ment?” is trot­ted out as some­how suf­fi­cient to re­solve the whole de­bate, along with pree­mpt­ive sideswipes against any­one who would ques­tion his an­ti­cap­it­al­ist cre­den­tials or com­pat­ib­il­ity with Marx­ism. I’m not sure why Heider thinks the fact Fou­cault was “a fel­low trav­el­er of sev­en­ties French Mao­ism” in any way re­com­mends him. All the same, Haid­er’s point about the his­tor­ic­al ideal­ism of Is­rael, Fluss, and Frim stands. Even Ideo­lo­gie­kri­tik ought to be groun­ded in something more sol­id than Fou­cauldean dis­course ana­lys­is or Der­ridean tex­tu­al mar­ginalia. What, then, is the ma­ter­i­al basis of En­light­en­ment? Or post­mod­ern­ism, for that mat­ter? For Marx, the emer­gence of this new leg­al and polit­ic­al su­per­struc­ture cor­res­pon­ded to an his­tor­ic shift in the so­cial and eco­nom­ic base. Uni­ver­sal egal­it­ari­an­ism didn’t just ex­press the class in­terests of the as­cend­ant bour­geois­ie, though it did this as well; it was also an ideal re­flec­tion of the real ab­stract equi­val­ence of the com­mod­ity-form. Yet this fact re­mained ob­scure to the Auf­klä­rers, who un­wit­tingly as­sim­il­ated the ob­jectiv­ity of ex­change to the ar­bit­rar­i­ness of ar­cha­ic in­sti­tu­tions. “This was the kind of ex­plan­a­tion favored by the eight­eenth cen­tury,” Marx ex­plains in Cap­it­al. “In this way the En­light­en­ment en­deavored, at least tem­por­ar­ily, to re­move the ap­pear­ance of strange­ness from the mys­ter­i­ous shapes as­sumed by hu­man re­la­tions whose ori­gins they were un­able to de­cipher.”

And what of post­mod­ern­ism? Cer­tainly there has been no short­age of Marx­ist stud­ies de­voted to an ex­am­in­a­tion of its ma­ter­i­al basis. Perry An­der­son traced its the­or­iz­a­tion through the lit­er­ary es­says of Ihan Hassab, the ar­chi­tec­tur­al treat­ises of Charles Jencks, and the epi­stem­o­lo­gic­al re­ports of Jean-François Lyo­tard be­fore tri­an­gu­lat­ing its ori­gin in the de­cline per­sist­ent hol­d­overs of the an­cien ré­gime (es­pe­cially the beaux-arts tra­di­tion with­in the academy), tech­no­lo­gic­al in­nov­a­tions (es­pe­cially tele­vi­sion), and polit­ic­al changes (es­pe­cially the dis­sol­u­tion of com­mun­ism). Dav­id Har­vey con­nec­ted the con­di­tion of post­mod­ern­ity with the neo­lib­er­al eco­nom­ics of “flex­ible ac­cu­mu­la­tion,” while Fre­dric Jameson dia­gnosed post­mod­ern­ism as “the cul­tur­al lo­gic of late cap­it­al­ism.” More sharply, Terry Eagleton dis­sip­ated its vari­ous “il­lu­sions” — its am­bi­val­ences, fal­la­cies, and con­tra­dic­tions — while Alex Call­ini­cos de­nounced it tout court. Gold­ner launched his own blis­ter­ing po­lem­ic against post­mod­ern­ism and de­con­struc­tion back when both had con­sid­er­ably great­er aca­dem­ic pull. He pin­pointed Heide­g­ger’s sup­port for Nazism and Fou­cault’s sup­port for Khomein­ism as de­riv­ing from their at­tempt to re­cast his­tor­ic­al non-iden­tity as on­to­lo­gic­al dif­fer­ence. But it is the crit­ic­al the­or­ist Moishe Po­stone who of­fers the most pro­found in­sight in­to post­mod­ern­ism’s ideo­lo­gic­al as­ser­tion of agency against the real­ity of struc­tur­al dom­in­a­tion. “The con­tem­por­ary hy­po­stat­iz­a­tion of dif­fer­ence, het­ero­gen­eity, and hy­brid­ity doesn’t ne­ces­sar­ily point bey­ond cap­it­al­ism,” Po­stone points out, “and in­stead serves to veil and le­git­im­ate a new glob­al form that com­bines de­cent­ral­iz­a­tion and het­ero­gen­eity of pro­duc­tion and con­sump­tion with in­creas­ing cent­ral­iz­a­tion of con­trol and un­der­ly­ing ho­mo­gen­eity.”

“Re­turn­ing” to the En­light­en­ment may be a fool’s er­rand. Luck­ily, one does not have to ad­opt some false pos­ture in or­der to de­fend its leg­acy. Cru­cial to its de­fense, however, is the the re­cog­ni­tion that hu­man activ­ity can it­self be con­ceived as ob­ject­ive, as Marx put it in his Theses on Feuerbach. This is the spe­cif­ic dif­fer­ence which sep­ar­ates clas­sic­al European En­light­en­ment from the “second En­light­en­ment” men­tioned by Men­and. Gold­ner ex­plains that “for the En­light­en­ment, an ob­ject was merely a thing; for Hegel and above all for Marx, an ob­ject is a re­la­tion­ship, me­di­ated by a thing.” Fluss and Frim are doubt­less right that the En­light­en­ment is presently un­der at­tack by a host of both an­ti­mod­ern­ist and post­mod­ern­ist ideo­logues, some even pur­port­ing to be from the Left (like the “un­re­pent­ant Marx­ist” Louis Proyect, who’s re­lin­quished his pre­vi­ous sup­port for Sokal in or­der to bet­ter cru­sade against the dast­ardly Vivek Chib­ber). A bril­li­ant re­but­tal to Proyect’s tenden­tious quo­ta­tion of Kant’s an­thro­po­logy, as well as the still more banal sur­vey of Di­derot, Voltaire, Hol­bach, Kant, and Hegel con­duc­ted over at Sub­urb­an Idiocies, is once again presen­ted by Gold­ner: “Polling En­light­en­ment fig­ures for their views on slavery and race is… is an ex­tremely lim­ited ap­proach to the ques­tion, sus­cept­ible to the worst kind of ana­chron­ism. What was re­mark­able about the En­light­en­ment, in a world con­text, was not that some of its dis­tin­guished fig­ures sup­por­ted slavery and white su­pr­em­acy but that sig­ni­fic­ant num­bers of them op­posed both. Slavery as an in­sti­tu­tion flour­ished in the col­orblind six­teenth-cen­tury Medi­ter­ranean slave pool. None of the par­ti­cip­at­ing so­ci­et­ies, Chris­ti­an or Muslim, European, Turk­ish, Ar­ab or Afric­an, ever ques­tioned it.”

Max Horkheimer and Theodor Ad­orno were also keenly aware of this “dia­lectic of en­light­en­ment,” as they called it. “Reas­on it­self has be­come merely an aid to the all-en­com­passing eco­nom­ic ap­par­at­us,” they wrote in their book of the same title, in 1944. Just a few years earli­er Trot­sky in­veighed against Wern­er Som­bart that, far from be­com­ing more tem­per­ate or reas­on­able, “aging cap­it­al­ism… is los­ing its last vestiges of reas­on.” In a so­ci­ety where con­sum­mately ra­tion­al means are used to pur­sue ul­ti­mately ir­ra­tion­al ends, Auf­klä­rung is sus­cept­ible to in­ver­sion, trans­form­ing in­to its op­pos­ite. Fluss and Frim de­ride Ad­orno and Horkheimer’s Dia­lect­ic of En­light­en­ment for hav­ing “re­tained a ten­sion between the En­light­en­ment ideas of eman­cip­a­tion, on the one hand, and the Ni­et­z­schean cri­tique of reas­on, on the oth­er” (a vir­tu­al para­phrase of Haber­mas’ cri­tique in Philo­soph­ic­al Dis­course of Mod­ern­ity of “Horkheimer and Ad­orno’s am­bigu­ous at­tempt to res­cue en­light­en­ment in a way that would sat­is­fy Ni­et­z­sche’s rad­ic­al cri­tique of reas­on”). But it is with­in this very apor­ia that they loc­ate the germ of mod­ern an­ti­semit­ism:

By as­sum­ing the unity of hu­man­ity to have been already real­ized in prin­ciple, the lib­er­al thes­is serves as an apo­logy for the ex­ist­ing or­der. The at­tempt to avert the direst threat by minor­ity policies and oth­er demo­crat­ic meas­ures is am­bigu­ous as is the de­fens­ive strategy of the last lib­er­al cit­izens. Their power­less­ness at­tracts the en­emy of power­less­ness. The mode of life and ap­pear­ance of the Jews com­prom­ise the ex­ist­ing uni­ver­sal by de­fi­cient ad­apt­a­tion. Their in­flex­ible ad­her­en­ce to their own or­der of life has placed them in an in­sec­ure re­la­tion­ship to the pre­vail­ing one. They ex­pec­ted to be sus­tained by that or­der without sub­scrib­ing to it. Their re­la­tion­ship to the dom­in­ant na­tions was one of greed and fear. Yet whenev­er they sac­ri­ficed their dif­fer­en­ce to the pre­vail­ing mode, the suc­cess­fully ad­ap­ted Jews took on in ex­change the cold, sto­ic­al char­ac­ter which ex­ist­ing so­ci­ety im­poses on hu­man be­ings. The dia­lect­ic­al in­ter­twine­ment of en­light­en­ment and power, the dual re­la­tion­ship of pro­gress to both cruelty and lib­er­a­tion, which has been brought home to the Jews no less by the great ex­po­nents of en­light­en­ment than by demo­crat­ic pop­u­lar move­ments, mani­fests it­self in the makeup of the as­sim­il­ated Jews them­selves. The en­lightened self-con­trol with which ad­ap­ted Jews ef­faced with­in them­selves the pain­ful scars of dom­in­a­tion by oth­ers, a kind of second cir­cum­cision, made them for­sake their own dilap­id­ated com­mu­nity and whole­heartedly em­brace the life of the mod­ern bour­geois­ie, which was already ad­van­cing in­eluct­ably to­ward a re­ver­sion to pure op­pres­sion and re­or­gan­iz­a­tion in­to an ex­clus­ively ra­cial en­tity. Race is not, as the ra­cial na­tion­al­ists claim, an im­me­di­ate, nat­ur­al pe­cu­li­ar­ity. Rather, it is a re­gres­sion to nature as mere vi­ol­en­ce, to the hide­bound par­tic­u­lar­ism which, in the ex­ist­ing or­der, con­sti­tu­tes pre­cisely the uni­ver­sal. Race today is the self-as­ser­tion of the bour­geois in­di­vidu­al, in­teg­rated in­to the bar­bar­ic col­lect­ive. The har­mo­ni­ous so­ci­ety to which the lib­er­al Jews de­clared their al­le­gi­ance has fi­nally been gran­ted to them in the form of the na­tion­al com­mu­nity. They be­lieved that only an­ti­semit­ism dis­figured this or­der, which in real­ity can­not ex­ist without dis­fig­ur­ing hu­man be­ings.

Gold­ner comes close to this for­mu­la­tion when he ex­plores the “conun­drum” posed by the fig­ure of race and En­light­en­ment. “The En­light­en­ment was, as such, neither ra­cist nor an ideo­logy of rel­ev­ance only to ‘white European males’,” he writes. “Nev­er­the­less, it presents the fol­low­ing conun­drum: On one hand, West­ern En­light­en­ment in its broad main­stream was in­dis­put­ably uni­ver­sal­ist and egal­it­ari­an, and there­fore cre­ated power­ful weapons for the at­tack on any doc­trine of ra­cial su­pr­em­acy; on the oth­er hand, the En­light­en­ment just as in­dis­put­ably gave birth to the very concept of race. Some of its il­lus­tri­ous rep­res­ent­at­ives be­lieved that whites were su­per­i­or to all oth­ers, a prob­lem that can­not be solved by lin­ing up En­light­en­ment fig­ures ac­cord­ing to their views on slavery and white su­pr­em­acy. Adam Smith, bet­ter known as the the­or­eti­cian of the free mar­ket and apo­lo­gist for the cap­it­al­ist di­vi­sion of labor, at­tacked both, where­as Hobbes and Locke jus­ti­fied slavery, while such em­in­en­ces as Thomas Jef­fer­son, who favored ab­ol­i­tion (however tep­idly) and de­fen­ded the French Re­volu­tion even in its Jac­obin phase, firmly be­lieved that blacks were bio­lo­gic­ally in­feri­or to whites.”

Else­where, he ex­plains that “the West­ern in­ven­tion of the idea of race in the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, at the be­gin­ning of the En­light­en­ment, was not merely a de­grad­a­tion of the peoples of col­or to whom it was ap­plied. Such a de­grad­a­tion had to be pre­ceded, and ac­com­pan­ied, by a com­par­able de­grad­a­tion of the view of man with­in West­ern cul­ture it­self. A so­ci­ety that sees the ra­cial ‘Oth­er’ in terms of an­im­al­ity must first ex­per­i­en­ce that an­im­al­ity with­in it­self.” I would maybe quibble with his claim that ra­cial­iz­a­tion was a uniquely West­ern phe­nomen­on. There’s a book out in French by Tidi­ane N’Diaye pro­voc­at­ively titled The Veiled Gen­o­cide [Le gé­no­cide voi­lé]. He chron­icles the “Ar­ab-Muslim slave trade” [la traite né­grière ar­a­bo-mu­sul­mane], which las­ted roughly twelve cen­tur­ies and per­haps rep­res­en­ted the first ra­cial­ized sys­tem of slavery (i.e., with black Afric­ans con­gen­it­ally treated as chat­tel). What this shows, im­port­antly in my view, is that ra­cism is not the de­lib­er­ate in­ven­tion of some “white dev­il,” but rather a dy­nam­ic tied to a so­cial re­la­tion­ship un­fold­ing his­tor­ic­ally in the pro­cess of prim­it­ive ac­cu­mu­la­tion. Also, I’ve been as­sured by some who know Gold­ner per­son­ally that he’s since re­vised his low opin­ion of the Frank­furt School, so that’s good.


Trump and healthcare

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Many left-lib­er­als are cur­rently cel­eb­rat­ing the col­lapse of the Re­pub­lic­ans’ pro­posed health­care bill, which would have “re­pealed and re­placed” Obama­care. There is good reas­on to cel­eb­rate, of course: the AHCA would have likely been even more dis­astrous than the ACA has proved to be. But some pun­dits seem to think that this, along with the on­go­ing Rus­sia in­vest­ig­a­tion, will be enough to sink Trump’s pres­id­ency. Fi­nally, they say, after months of scan­dal and dip­lo­mat­ic faux pas, the or­ange men­ace will be laid to rest. Re­id Kane Kot­las spells out why this isn’t ne­ces­sar­ily the case:

Don­ald Trump did not lose; he got ex­actly what he wanted. He let the Re­pub­lic­an es­tab­lish­ment dis­cred­it them­selves. Re­peal­ing Obama­care was not Trump’s is­sue; it’s been a Tea Party hobby­horse since the bill first passed in 2010. They couldn’t even re­peal it with a sol­id Re­pub­lic­an Con­gress, which just demon­strates the depth of di­vi­sion with­in the party. Con­gres­sion­al GOP lead­er­ship now look bad in the eyes of their own sup­port­ers, which strengthens Trump’s lead­er­ship role in the party.

Trump is only in of­fice be­cause he’s been ex­ploit­ing and ex­acer­bat­ing that di­vi­sion since he first an­nounced his can­did­acy. Mean­while, as the ACA gets worse and worse, it just re­flects neg­at­ively on the Demo­crats who passed it in the first place. So Trump won. If you don’t get that, you don’t get polit­ics.

All this should be fairly ob­vi­ous to any­one not caught up in the 24-hour news cycle, with its con­stant bar­rage of bull­shit re­port­age. What happened with health­care is that Trump handed the House Re­pub­lic­ans an un­ex­ploded gren­ade with the pin already re­moved. He let them in­de­cis­ively juggle it around be­fore blow­ing them­selves up. Now if Trump wants to move in an­oth­er dir­ec­tion, even a drastic­ally dif­fer­ent dir­ec­tion — like, say, uni­ver­sal single-pay­er health­care or medi­care for all — he can hon­estly say to Paul Ry­an and the rest of the GOP, “You had your chance.”

Corey Robin, humbled in his polit­ic­al pre­dic­tions ever since Trump won the elec­tion, hoped “that the rage of the GOP would over­whelm its reas­on.” Trump did him one bet­ter: he banked on it, while trolling the Pro-Life Free­dom Caucus with mid­night ul­ti­mata pos­ted on Twit­ter. In all like­li­hood, Trump prob­ably wouldn’t mind if the Re­pub­lic­ans got mauled in the midterm elec­tions. Es­pe­cially some of the Tea Party hol­d­overs, be­cause he’d be bet­ter able to pass ac­tu­al health­care re­form and in­fra­struc­ture spend­ing with Dems man­ning the le­gis­lat­ive branch.

For the mo­ment, however, his only vis­ible in­tern­al op­pos­i­tion has been totally un­der­cut. Some have gone so far as to sug­gest that it’s not even use­ful to think of Trump and his in­ner circle as Re­pub­lic­ans. Rather, they rep­res­ent a het­ero­gen­eous fac­tion with­in a party they’re seek­ing to des­troy and re­cre­ate. After all, Trump was re­gistered as a Demo­crat between 2001 and 2008, and stated for the re­cord that he was “very pro-choice” in a live in­ter­view from Oc­to­ber 1999. His Re­pub­lic­an op­pon­ents dur­ing the primar­ies wer­en’t wrong when they ac­cused him of re­peatedly prais­ing the Scot­tish and Ca­na­dian mod­els of so­cial­ized health­care.

Oth­ers ob­ject it is more use­ful to think about Trump in terms of the con­stel­la­tion of so­cial forces which elec­ted him and the known-quant­ity con­ser­vat­ives and bil­lion­aires he’s since ap­poin­ted to his cab­in­et. Michael Kinnucan, for example, correctly points out that

Trump was elec­ted by es­sen­tially the ex­act co­ali­tion that voted for Rom­ney, a co­ali­tion solidly united around re­peal­ing Obama­care, plus 1% of dis­af­fected folks. He lob­bied very hard to pass AHCA be­cause he’s a Re­pub­lic­an who (to the lim­ited ex­tent that he cares about policy) strongly be­lieves in tax cuts and doesn’t care about health­care bey­ond something-something-mar­kets, and be­cause his power to pass laws de­pends solely on a Re­pub­lic­an ma­jor­ity com­mit­ted to gut­ting Medi­caid. But sure, maybe now he’ll pivot to single-pay­er!

Some de­gree of skep­ti­cism with re­spect to the above nar­rat­ive is thus war­ran­ted, to be sure. Lib­er­als seem to os­cil­late between the view that Trump is an in­com­pet­ent buf­foon and the view that he’s an evil geni­us. Ac­cord­ing to the former view, the ex­ec­ut­ive fias­coes of the first sixty days are a func­tion of his in­ex­per­i­ence and lack of prop­er qual­i­fic­a­tions, while ac­cord­ing to the lat­ter these are just an elab­or­ate ruse in­ten­ded to at­tract or dis­tract me­dia at­ten­tion while more ne­far­i­ous meas­ures are put in place. Just a way of keep­ing our eyes off the ball.

The real­ity, I sus­pect, is far more banal: Trump and his as­so­ciates com­mit a blun­der or vi­ol­ate the usu­al pres­id­en­tial etiquette. Me­dia out­lets and seasoned com­ment­at­ors like clock­work over­re­act with ex­pres­sions of shock or dis­be­lief. He then re­sponds by fur­ther rub­bing it in their face, which un­doubtedly forms part of Trump’s ap­peal — i.e., his total dis­reg­ard (even out­right con­tempt) for time-honored con­ven­tion. Quite a lot of this is im­pro­visa­tion­al or ad hoc, so I’m not com­pletely sure that this was a de­lib­er­ate move on the part of Trump. But it’s happened sev­er­al times now.

Per­haps it was de­lib­er­ate on the part of Steve Ban­non, however. Ban­non’s said since the be­gin­ning that he wants to “des­troy” Ry­an, and that the Tea Party darlings of yes­teryear like Ted Cruz and Rand Paul are “the en­emy.” Of course, Ban­non is known for his hy­per­bole and omin­ous state­ments about “de­con­struct­ing the ad­min­is­trat­ive state.” So murky au­gur­ies help with his mys­tique. I mean, this is a man who called him­self a “Len­in­ist” to Re­agan­ites and ex­pressed open sym­pathy for the dev­il while he made a play for the evan­gel­ic­al vote. “Dark­ness is good,” Ban­non told Hol­ly­wood Re­port­er, “Dick Cheney, Darth Vader, Satan: that’s power.”

Nev­er­the­less, I would cau­tion against un­der­es­tim­at­ing Trump’s polit­ic­al acu­men, not to men­tion the in­tel­li­gence of his closest ad­visors. This guy ut­terly dom­in­ated the Re­pub­lic­an primar­ies des­pite run­ning no cam­paign, while fa­cing sev­er­al ca­reer politi­cians at times united in op­pos­i­tion to him. He then pro­ceeded to win the gen­er­al elec­tion against someone who had dec­ades of polit­ic­al ex­per­i­ence, the com­plete back­ing of Wall Street, and a former pres­id­ent for a hus­band. Not to men­tion the fact that she out­spent him on ad­vert­ising by the price of roughly three F-35s.

And he did all of this des­pite hav­ing no ex­per­i­ence in of­fice, fa­cing count­less scan­dals — ran­ging from “he made fun of a dis­abled guy” to “he brags about grabbing pussy” to “he may be a child mo­lester” — and re­ceiv­ing luke­warm sup­port (if not out­right hos­til­ity) from the most in­flu­en­tial mem­bers of his own party. I’m not say­ing that either Trump or Ban­non is some sort of diabol­ic­al mas­ter­mind, but neither one of them is an idi­ot. Both know how to spot an op­por­tun­ity and ex­ploit it, and how to ma­nip­u­late people. Stop look­ing for some sil­ver bul­let that will ma­gic­ally take down Trump.

Your en­ergy would be bet­ter spent try­ing to build a real polit­ic­al op­pos­i­tion in­de­pend­ent of, and im­plac­ably op­posed to, both ma­jor parties. Noth­ing short of so­cial­ism.


Mihály Biró, 1886-1948

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Bud­apest nat­ive Mihály Biró (1886-1948) joined the So­cial Demo­crat­ic cause early in life. He spent the peri­od between 1910 and 1914, design­ing strik­ing and widely noted posters and il­lus­tra­tions for the SZDP [Hun­gari­an So­cial Demo­crat­ic Party].

Fol­low­ing the First World War, Biró be­came the graph­ic mouth­piece of the new Red Army of the Hun­gari­an So­viet Re­pub­lic. The ad­vent of the right-wing dic­tat­or­ship of Miklós Hort­hy soon forced him to flee to Vi­enna, however, where he cre­ated the Hort­hy Port­fo­lio (1920), con­sist­ing of col­or litho­graphs doc­u­ment­ing the at­ro­cit­ies of the Hort­hy re­gime.

Along­side the polit­ic­al posters — Biró’s true call­ing — he also cre­ated posters for in­di­vidu­al busi­nesses and the boom­ing film in­dustry. Biró fi­nally fled from Aus­tro­fas­cism in 1934 and settled in Czechoslov­akia, where he be­came ill and deeply de­pressed. In 1938, he suc­ceeded in flee­ing on to Par­is, where he was to stay un­til 1947.

It was only in 1947 that he was able to re­turn to Bud­apest, where he died in 1948.



David Riazanov and the tragic fate of Isaak Rubin

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Re­portedly, the Rus­si­an re­volu­tion­ary and pi­on­eer­ing Marx­o­lo­gist Dav­id Riazan­ov once in­sul­ted Stal­in to his face at a party meet­ing held dur­ing the mid-1920s. At the time, the ma­jor top­ic of de­bate was over the feas­ib­il­ity of so­cial­ism ab­sent a re­volu­tion in the West. In the years that fol­lowed Oc­to­ber 1917 the fledgling So­viet re­gime had sur­vived bru­tal win­ters, food short­ages, and an in­ter­na­tion­al block­ade while fight­ing off a bloody do­mest­ic coun­ter­re­volu­tion staged by dis­par­ate ele­ments of the old re­gime (the Whites) with the sup­port of for­eign powers (the Al­lied In­ter­ven­tion). The civil war was over, but re­volu­tion had else­where stalled out as the USSR’s bor­ders sta­bil­ized: the European pro­let­ari­at failed to over­throw the crisis-rid­den bour­geois gov­ern­ments of France, Ger­many, Eng­land, Aus­tria, and a host of oth­er na­tions. Now the ques­tion on every­one’s mind where the Bolshev­iks should go from there. Could so­cial­ism could be es­tab­lished in one (re­l­at­ively back­wards) na­tion?

Bukhar­in was the chief ar­chi­tect of the pro­gram for those who af­firmed that it could. His days as a left com­mun­ist be­hind him, Nikolai Ivan­ovich had mean­while suc­cumbed to prag­mat­ism and un­ima­gin­at­ive Real­politik. Mar­ket re­forms put in place by Len­in un­der the New Eco­nom­ic Policy after 1921 were to be con­tin­ued, and the trans­ition to “a high­er stage of com­mun­ist so­ci­ety” delayed, but its achieve­ment no longer de­pended on the spread of world re­volu­tion. Eager to make a name for him­self as a lead­ing the­or­eti­cian, Stal­in in­ter­jec­ted with some com­ments of his own. “Stop it, Koba,” Riazan­ov acerbically replied. “You’re mak­ing a fool of your­self. We all know the­ory isn’t ex­actly your strong suit.” Little won­der, then, that Stal­in would later want Riazan­ov’s head on a plat­ter; he’d in­flic­ted a deep nar­ciss­ist­ic wound. For as Trot­sky would later point out, in a two-part art­icle mock­ing “Stal­in as a The­or­eti­cian,” noth­ing was more im­port­ant to the Gen­er­al Sec­ret­ary than to be re­garded as well-versed in the sci­ence of dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism.

Years earli­er, Riazan­ov had pro­voked the wrath of Len­in by fail­ing to pick a side in the fam­ous Men­shev­ik-Bolshev­ik split that res­ul­ted from the party con­gress in 1902. Oth­ers had also de­cided to re­main in­de­pend­ent, of course, most not­ably Lev Dav­idovich. But Riazan­ov’s re­fus­al to fall in with either tend­ency es­pe­cially en­raged Len­in. In 1909, the Bolshev­ik lead­er re­ferred to Trot­sky as “a despic­able ca­reer­ist and fac­tion­al­ist of the Riazan­ov-and-co. type” in a let­ter ad­dressed to Zinoviev. Goldendakh, as Riazan­ov was ori­gin­ally known, was con­sid­er­ably older than either Len­in or Trot­sky, however, be­com­ing a Marx­ist while abroad in 1889. He’d ini­tially been close with Plekhan­ov, but the two had a fall­ing out after the former ar­gued for a stricter stance to­ward party mem­ber­ship un­der the pen-name Riazan­ov in the pages of Bor’ba [Struggle]. Bor’ba, an émigré pa­per based out of Par­is, wasn’t all that far off from Len­in’s Iskra in terms of its line, and the two col­lab­or­ated in the lead-up to the 1902 con­gress. This is per­haps why Len­in scol­ded Riazan­ov so harshly after this point, ex­pect­ing him to rally to the side of the Bolshev­iks dur­ing the con­tro­versy. When Riazan­ov va­cil­lated, in­stead tak­ing on a “con­cili­at­ory” role, Len­in was deeply dis­ap­poin­ted.

Nev­er­the­less, upon re­turn­ing to Rus­sia in 1917, both men came to an agree­ment. Riazan­ov was stuck in Eng­land for a time, so Len­in ar­rived earli­er. From Feb­ru­ary on­ward, though, he be­longed to the Bolshev­iks. After the Oc­to­ber Re­volu­tion, Len­in ap­poin­ted Riazan­ov to a pres­ti­gi­ous re­search po­s­i­tion charged with pub­lish­ing the re­main­ing works of Marx and En­gels. Dur­ing the twen­ties and thirties, then, Riazan­ov headed the renowned Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute in Mo­scow. Un­der his su­per­vi­sion, schol­ars like the eco­nom­ist Isaak Ru­bin and the crit­ic Georg Lukács would un­cov­er a vast fund of archiv­al ma­ter­i­al. Carl Grünberg, first chair of the Frank­furt In­sti­tute for So­cial Re­search, co­ordin­ated the pho­tostat copy­ing of doc­u­ments still in the pos­ses­sion of Eduard Bern­stein and Karl Kaut­sky. In Vi­enna, a young Ro­man Ros­dol­sky would serve as a cor­res­pond­ent to the Mo­scow In­sti­tute from 1928 to 1931. Len­in fre­quently wrote to Riazan­ov with ques­tions about un­pub­lished let­ters and rare art­icles by the founders of sci­entif­ic so­cial­ism. “Do you at the lib­rary have a col­lec­tion of all the let­ters of Marx and En­gels from the news­pa­pers and sep­ar­ate magazines? For ex­ample, about ma­ter­i­al­ism in Leipzieger Volk­szei­tung (1894)?” Etc.

Vic­tor Serge in his 1947 Mem­oirs of a Re­volu­tion­ary re­called meet­ing Lukács and his wife “in 1928 or 1929 [Serge mis­re­membered the date; it must have been 1930 or 1931], in a Mo­scow street. He was then work­ing at the Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute; his books were be­ing sup­pressed, and he lived bravely in the gen­er­al fear. Al­though he was fairly well-dis­posed to­wards me, he did not care to shake my hand in a pub­lic place, since I’d been ex­pelled and a known Op­pos­i­tion­ist. Lukács en­joyed a phys­ic­al sur­viv­al, and wrote short, spir­it­less art­icles in Comin­tern journ­als.” Riazan­ov ap­par­ently joked, Lukács re­vealed in an in­ter­view dec­ades later, that he’d been “Comin­terned… that is, put out to non­polit­ic­al pas­ture.” Ques­tioned about Riazan­ov’s fate, Lukács glumly re­marked that “noth­ing fur­ther was known” after the 1931 con­vic­tion in the in­fam­ous Men­shev­ik tri­al. Serge de­tailed this a bit fur­ther in his Mem­oirs:

I was on very close terms with sev­er­al of the sci­entif­ic staff at the Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute, headed by Dav­id Bor­iso­vich Riazan­ov, who had cre­ated there a sci­entif­ic es­tab­lish­ment of note­worthy qual­ity. Riazan­ov, one of the founders of the Rus­si­an work­ing-class move­ment, was, in his six­tieth year, at the peak of a ca­reer whose suc­cess might ap­pear ex­cep­tion­al in times so cruel. He had de­voted a great part of his life to a severely scru­pu­lous in­quiry in­to the bio­graphy and works of Marx — and the Re­volu­tion heaped hon­or on him, and in the Party his in­de­pend­ence of out­look was re­spec­ted. Alone, he had nev­er ceased to cry out against the death pen­alty, even dur­ing the Ter­ror, nev­er ceased to de­mand the strict lim­it­a­tion of the rights of the Cheka and its suc­cessor, the GPU. Heretics of all kinds, Men­shev­ik so­cial­ists or op­pos­i­tion­ists of Right or Left, found peace and work in his In­sti­tute, provided only that they had a love of know­ledge. He was still the man who had told a con­fer­ence to its face: “I am not one of those Old Bolshev­iks who for twenty years were de­scribed by Len­in as old fools…”

I had met him a num­ber of times: stout, strong-fea­tured, beard and mus­tache thick and white, at­tent­ive eyes, Olympi­an fore­head, stormy tem­pera­ment, iron­ic ut­ter­ance… Of course his heretic­al col­leagues were of­ten ar­res­ted, and he de­fen­ded them, with all due dis­cre­tion. He had ac­cess to all quar­ters and the lead­ers were a little afraid of his frank way of talk­ing. His repu­ta­tion had just been of­fi­cially re­cog­nized in a cel­eb­ra­tion of his six­tieth birth­day and his life’s work when the ar­rest of the Men­shev­ik sym­path­izer Sher, a neur­ot­ic in­tel­lec­tu­al who promptly made all the con­fes­sions that any­one pleased to dic­tate to him, put Riazan­ov be­side him­self with rage. Hav­ing learned that a tri­al of old so­cial­ists was be­ing set in hand, with mon­strously ri­dicu­lous con­fes­sions fois­ted on them, Riazan­ov flared up and told mem­ber after mem­ber of the Polit­buro that it was a dis­hon­or to the re­gime, that all this or­gan­ized frenzy simply did not stand up and that Sher was half-mad any­way.

Dur­ing the tri­al of the so-called “Men­shev­ik cen­ter,” the de­fend­ant [Isaak] Ru­bin, one of Riazan­ov’s protégés, sud­denly brought his name in­to the case, ac­cus­ing him of hav­ing hid­den in the In­sti­tute doc­u­ments of the So­cial­ist In­ter­na­tion­al con­cerned with war against the So­viet Uni­on! Everything that was told to the audi­ence was en­gin­eered in ad­vance, so this sen­sa­tion­al rev­el­a­tion was in­ser­ted to or­der. Summoned on that very night be­fore the Polit­buro, Riazan­ov had a vi­ol­ent ex­change with Stal­in. “Where are the doc­u­ments?” shouted the Gen­er­al Sec­ret­ary. Riazan­ov replied vehe­mently, “You won’t find them any­where un­less you’ve put them there your­self!” He was ar­res­ted, jailed, and de­por­ted to a group of little towns on the Volga, doomed to pen­ury and phys­ic­al col­lapse; lib­rar­i­ans re­ceived the or­der to purge his writ­ings and his edi­tions of Marx from their stocks. To any­body who knew the policy of the So­cial­ist In­ter­na­tion­al and the char­ac­ter of its lead­ers, Fritz Adler, Vandervelde, Ab­ramovich, Otto Bauer, and Bracke, the fab­ric­ated charge was ut­terly and grot­esquely im­plaus­ible. If it had to be ad­mit­ted as true, Riazan­ov de­served to die as a trait­or, but they merely ex­iled him. As I write this book I learn that he died a couple of years ago (in 1940?) alone and cap­tive, nobody knows where.

Ru­bin did not give up his ment­or will­ingly. In­deed, his per­se­cu­tion at the hands of Stal­in’s men was pos­sibly even more bru­tal and tra­gic. From 1905 on, Ru­bin had been in­volved in the Marx­ist move­ment in Rus­sia as part of the Men­shev­ik fac­tion. Though not quite as en­cyc­lo­ped­ic as Riazan­ov, in terms of his breadth of know­ledge, Ru­bin was a far more ori­gin­al the­or­ist. You can down­load his Es­says on Marx’s The­ory of Value (1926), his lec­ture “On Ab­stract Labor” (1927), and his His­tory of Eco­nom­ic Thought (1928) by clicking here. But the sad story of what happened to Ru­bin between 1930 and 1937 is re­coun­ted be­low by his sis­ter, in testi­mony com­piled in 1971 by the dis­sid­ent his­tor­i­an Roy Med­ve­dev (who’s now a shill for Putin). This is then fol­lowed by an art­icle Trot­sky wrote in Riazan­ov’s de­fense upon learn­ing of his ar­rest in 1931.

Con­cern­ing my broth­er, Isaak Rubin

B.I. Rubina
Circa 1971

.
This is what I learned from my broth­er. When he was ar­res­ted on Decem­ber 23, 1930, he was charged with be­ing a mem­ber of the “Uni­on Bur­eau of Men­shev­iks.” This ac­cus­a­tion seemed so ri­dicu­lous that he im­me­di­ately sub­mit­ted a writ­ten ex­pos­i­tion of his views, which he thought would prove the im­possib­il­ity of such an ac­cus­a­tion. When the in­vest­ig­at­or read this state­ment, he tore it up right there. A con­front­a­tion was ar­ranged between my broth­er and Yak­ubovich, who had been ar­res­ted earli­er and had con­fessed to be­ing a mem­ber of the “Uni­on Bur­eau.” My broth­er did not even know Yak­ubovich. At the con­front­a­tion, when Yak­ubovich said to my broth­er, “Isaac Il’ich, we were to­geth­er at a ses­sion of the Uni­on Bur­eau,” my broth­er im­me­di­ately asked, “And where was this meet­ing held?” This ques­tion caused such a dis­rup­tion in the ex­am­in­a­tion that the in­vest­ig­at­or in­ter­rup­ted the ex­am­in­a­tion right there, say­ing, “What are you, a law­yer, Isaak Il’ich?”

My broth­er in fact was a law­yer, had worked in that field for many years. After that con­front­a­tion the charge that Ru­bin was a mem­ber of the “Uni­on Bur­eau” was dropped. Soon after, my broth­er was trans­ferred to Su­zdal. The cir­cum­stances of that trans­fer were so un­usu­al that they were bound to in­spire alarm and fear. On the sta­tion plat­form there was not a single per­son; in an empty rail­road car he was met by an im­port­ant GPU of­fi­cial, Gai. To all of Gai’s at­tempts at per­sua­sion my broth­er replied with what was really true: that he had no con­nec­tions with the Men­shev­iks. Then Gai de­clared that he would give him forty-eight hours to think it over. Ru­bin replied that he didn’t need forty-eight minutes…

The ex­am­in­a­tion at Su­zdal also failed to give the in­vest­ig­at­ors the res­ults they wanted. Then they put Ru­bin for days in the kartser, the pun­ish­ment cell. My broth­er at forty-five was a man with a dis­eased heart and dis­eased joints. The kartser was a stone hole the size of a man; you couldn’t move in it, you could only stand or sit on the stone floor. But my broth­er en­dured this tor­ture, too, and left the kartser with a feel­ing of in­ner con­fid­ence in him­self, in his mor­al strength… Then he was put in the kartser for a second time, which also pro­duced no res­ults. At that time Ru­bin was shar­ing a cell with Yak­ubovich and Sher. When he came back from the kartser, his cell­mates re­ceived him with great con­cern and at­ten­tion; right there they made tea for him, gave him sug­ar and oth­er things, and tried in every way to show their sym­pathy. Telling me about this, Ru­bin said that he was so amazed: these same people told lies about him and at the same time treated him so warmly.

Soon Ru­bin was put in­to sol­it­ary con­fine­ment; in those cir­cum­stances he was sub­jec­ted to every kind of tor­ment­ing hu­mi­li­ation. He was de­prived of all the per­son­al things he had brought with him, even handker­chiefs. At that time he had the flu and walked about with a swollen nose, with ul­cers, filthy. The pris­on au­thor­it­ies of­ten in­spec­ted his cell, and as soon as they found any vi­ol­a­tion of the rule for main­tain­ing the cell they sent him to clean the lat­rines. Everything was done to break his will… They told him his wife was very sick, to which he replied: “I can’t help her in any way, I can’t even help my­self.” At times the in­vest­ig­at­ors would turn friendly and say: “Isaac Il’ich, this is ne­ces­sary for the party.” At the same time they gave him night­time in­ter­rog­a­tions, at which a man is not al­lowed to fall asleep for a minute. They would wake him up, wear him out with all sorts of in­ter­rog­a­tions, jeer at his spir­itu­al strength, call him the “Men­shev­ik Je­sus.”

This went on un­til Janu­ary 28, 1931. On the night of Janu­ary 28-29, they took him down to a cel­lar, where there were vari­ous pris­on of­fi­cials and a pris­on­er, someone named Vas­ilyevskii, …to whom they said, in the pres­ence of my broth­er; “We are go­ing to shoot you now, if Ru­bin does not con­fess.” Vas­ilyevskii on his knees begged my broth­er: “Isaac Il’ich, what does it cost you to con­fess?” But my broth­er re­mained firm and calm, even when they shot Vas­ilyevskii right there. His feel­ing of in­ner right­ness was so strong that it helped him to en­dure that fright­ful or­deal. The next night, Janu­ary 29, they took my broth­er to the cel­lar again. This time a young man who looked like a stu­dent was there. My broth­er didn’t know him. When they turned to the stu­dent with the words, “You will be shot be­cause Ru­bin will not con­fess,” the stu­dent tore open his shirt at the breast and said, “Fas­cists, gen­darmes, shoot!” They shot him right there; the name of this stu­dent was Dorod­nov.

The shoot­ing of Dorod­nov made a shat­ter­ing im­pres­sion on my broth­er. Return­ing to his cell, he began to think. What’s to be done? My broth­er de­cided to start ne­go­ti­ations with the in­vest­ig­at­or; these ne­go­ti­ations las­ted from Feb­ru­ary 2 to 21, 1931. The charge that Ru­bin be­longed to the Uni­on Bur­eau had already been dropped in Mo­scow, after the con­front­a­tion with Yak­ubovich. Now they agreed that my broth­er would con­sent to con­fess him­self a mem­ber of a pro­gram com­mis­sion con­nec­ted with the Uni­on Bur­eau, and that he, Ru­bin, had kept doc­u­ments of the Men­shev­ik Cen­ter in his of­fice at the In­sti­tute, and when he was fired from the In­sti­tute, he had handed them over in a sealed en­vel­ope to [Dav­id] Riazan­ov, as ma­ter­i­als on the his­tory of the So­cial Demo­crat­ic move­ment. Ru­bin had sup­posedly asked Riazan­ov to keep these doc­u­ments for a short time. In these ne­go­ti­ations every word, every for­mu­la­tion was fought over. Re­peatedly the “con­fes­sion” writ­ten by Ru­bin was crossed out and cor­rec­ted by the in­vest­ig­at­or. When Ru­bin went to tri­al on March 1, 1931, in the side pock­et of his jack­et was his “con­fes­sion,” cor­rec­ted with the in­vest­ig­at­or’s red ink.

Ru­bin’s po­s­i­tion was tra­gic. He had to con­fess to what had nev­er ex­is­ted, and noth­ing had: neither his former views; nor his con­nec­tions with the oth­er de­fend­ants, most of whom he didn’t even know, while oth­ers he knew only by chance; nor any doc­u­ments that had sup­posedly been en­trus­ted to his safe­keep­ing; nor that sealed pack­age of doc­u­ments which he was sup­posed to have handed over to Riazan­ov.

In the course of the in­ter­rog­a­tion and ne­go­ti­ations with the in­vest­ig­at­or it be­came clear to Ru­bin that the name of Riazan­ov would fig­ure in the whole af­fair, if not in Ru­bin’s testi­mony, then in the testi­mony of someone else. And Ru­bin agreed to tell the whole story about the myth­ic­al pack­age. My broth­er told me that speak­ing against Riazan­ov was just like speak­ing against his own fath­er. That was the hard­est part for him, and he de­cided to make it look as if he had fooled Riazan­ov, who had trus­ted him im­pli­citly. My broth­er stub­bornly kept to this po­s­i­tion in all his de­pos­itions: Riazan­ov had trus­ted him per­son­ally, and he, Ru­bin, had fooled trust­ful Riazan­ov. No one and noth­ing could shake him from this po­s­i­tion. His de­pos­ition of Feb­ru­ary 21 con­cern­ing this mat­ter was prin­ted in the in­dict­ment and signed by Krylen­ko on Feb­ru­ary 23, 1931. The de­pos­ition said that Ru­bin handed Riazan­ov the doc­u­ments in a sealed en­vel­ope and asked him to keep them for a while at the In­sti­tute. My broth­er stressed this po­s­i­tion in all his state­ments be­fore and dur­ing the tri­al. At the tri­al he gave a num­ber of ex­amples which were sup­posed to ex­plain why Riazan­ov trus­ted him so much…

Put­ting the prob­lem in such a way ruined the pro­sec­utor’s plan. He asked Ru­bin point-blank: “Didn’t you es­tab­lish any or­gan­iz­a­tion­al con­nec­tion?” Ru­bin replied, “No, there was no or­gan­iz­a­tion­al con­nec­tion, there was only his great per­son­al trust in me.” Then Krylen­ko asked for a re­cess. When he and the oth­er de­fend­ants got to an­oth­er room, Krylen­ko said to Ru­bin: “You did not say what you should have said. After the re­cess I will call you back to the stand, and you will cor­rect your reply.” Ru­bin answered sharply: “Do not call me any more. I will again re­peat what I said.” The res­ult of this con­flict was that, in­stead of the agreed three years in pris­on, Ru­bin was giv­en five, and in his con­clud­ing speech Krylen­ko gave a dev­ast­at­ing char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion of Ru­bin like that of no one else. Every­one in­ter­ested in the case could not un­der­stand why there was so much spite and venom in this char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion.

Ru­bin set him­self the goal of do­ing everything in his power to “shield” Riazan­ov… At the tri­al the pos­sib­il­ity of de­fin­ing in this way his po­s­i­tion with re­spect to Riazan­ov gave Ru­bin a cer­tain mor­al sat­is­fac­tion. But these leg­al sub­tleties made little sense to any­one else. Polit­ic­ally, Riazan­ov was com­prom­ised, and Ru­bin was stricken from the list of people who have the right to a life worthy of man. Ru­bin him­self, in his own con­scious­ness, struck him­self from the list of such people as soon as he began to give his “testi­mony.” It is in­ter­est­ing what my broth­er felt when they took him back to Mo­scow from Su­zdal. When, sick and tor­tured, he was put in­to the sleigh, he re­membered, in his words, how self-as­sured and in­tern­ally strong he had been when he came to Su­zdal and how he was leav­ing mor­ally broken, des­troyed, de­graded to a state of com­plete hope­less­ness. Ru­bin un­der­stood per­fectly well that by his “con­fes­sion” he had put an end to his life as an hon­or­able, un­cor­rup­ted work­er and achiev­er in his chosen field of schol­ar­ship.

But that was not the main thing; the main thing was that he was des­troyed as a man. Ru­bin un­der­stood per­fectly well what re­per­cus­sions his con­fes­sion would have. Why had Ru­bin borne false wit­ness against him­self? Why had he also named Riazan­ov? Why had he vi­ol­ated the most ele­ment­ary, most prim­it­ive con­cepts of hu­man be­ha­vi­or? Every­one knew with what mu­tu­al re­spect these two men were con­nec­ted, Ru­bin and Riazan­ov. Riazan­ov, who was con­sid­er­ably older than Ru­bin, saw in him a tal­en­ted Marx­ist schol­ar who had de­voted his life to the study and pop­ular­iz­a­tion of Marx­ism. Riazan­ov had trus­ted him un­re­servedly; he him­self was be­wildered by what had happened. Here I want to re­count an epis­ode, a very pain­ful one, the con­front­a­tion between Ru­bin and Riazan­ov. The con­front­a­tion took place in the pres­ence of an in­vest­ig­at­or. Ru­bin, pale and tor­men­ted, turned to Riazan­ov, say­ing, “Dav­id Bor­iso­vich, you re­mem­ber I handed you a pack­age.” Wheth­er Riazan­ov said any­thing and pre­cisely what, I don’t re­mem­ber for sure. My broth­er right then was taken to his cell; in his cell he began to beat his head against the wall. Any­one who knew how calm and self-con­trolled Ru­bin was can un­der­stand what a state he had been brought to. Ac­cord­ing to ru­mors, Riazan­ov used to say that he could not un­der­stand what had happened to Isaac Il’ich.

The de­fend­ants in the case of the “Uni­on Bur­eau” were sen­tenced to vari­ous terms of im­pris­on­ment, and all four­teen men were trans­ferred to the polit­ic­al pris­on in the town of Verkh­neur­al­sk. Ru­bin, sen­tenced to five years, was sub­jec­ted to sol­it­ary con­fine­ment. The oth­ers, who re­ceived terms of ten, eight, and five years, were placed sev­er­al men to a cell. Ru­bin re­mained in sol­it­ary con­fine­ment throughout his im­pris­on­ment. Dur­ing his con­fine­ment he con­tin­ued his schol­arly work. Ru­bin be­came sick in pris­on, and lip can­cer was sus­pec­ted. In con­nec­tion with this sick­ness, in Janu­ary, 1933. he was taken to Mo­scow, to the hos­pit­al in Bu­tyrskaia Pris­on. While in the hos­pit­al Ru­bin was vis­ited twice by GPU of­fi­cials who offered to make his situ­ation easi­er, to free him, to en­able him to do re­search. But both times Ru­bin re­fused, un­der­stand­ing the price that is paid for such fa­vors. After spend­ing six to eight weeks in the pris­on hos­pit­al, he was taken back to the polit­ic­al pris­on in Verkh­neur­al­sk… A year later, in 1934, Ru­bin was re­leased on a com­muted sen­tence and ex­iled to the town of Tur­gai, then an al­most un­pop­u­lated set­tle­ment in the desert. Aside from Ru­bin there were no oth­er ex­iles there.

After sev­er­al months at Tur­gai, Ru­bin was per­mit­ted to settle in the town of Ak­ty­u­b­insk… He got work in a con­sumer co­oper­at­ive, as a plan eco­nom­ist. In ad­di­tion he con­tin­ued to do his own schol­arly work. In the sum­mer of 1935 his wife be­came ser­i­ously sick. My broth­er sent a tele­gram ask­ing me to come. I went right away to Ak­ty­u­b­insk; my broth­er’s wife lay in the hos­pit­al, and he him­self was in a very bad con­di­tion. A month later, when his wife had re­covered, I went home to Mo­scow… My broth­er told me that he did not want to re­turn to Mo­scow, he did not want to meet his former circle of ac­quaint­ances. That showed how deeply he was spir­itu­ally shaken by all that he had been through. Only his great op­tim­ism that was char­ac­ter­ist­ic of him and his deep schol­arly in­terests gave him the strength to live.

In the fall of 1937, dur­ing the mass ar­rests of that time, my broth­er was again ar­res­ted. The pris­on in Ak­ty­u­b­insk was over­crowded, the liv­ing con­di­tions of the pris­on­ers were ter­ri­fy­ing. After a short stay in the pris­on, he was trans­ferred some­where out­side of Ak­ty­u­b­insk. We could find out noth­ing more about him.

The case of com­rade Riazan­ov

Leon Trotsky
March 1931

.
At the mo­ment we write these lines, we know noth­ing about the ex­pul­sion from the party of Riazan­ov ex­cept what is com­mu­nic­ated in the of­fi­cial dis­patches by Tass. Riazan­ov has been ex­pelled from the party, not for any dif­fer­ences with the so-called gen­er­al line, but for “treas­on” to the party. Riazan­ov is ac­cused — no more and no less — of hav­ing con­spired with the Men­shev­iks and the So­cial Re­volu­tion­ar­ies who were al­lied with the con­spir­at­ors of the in­dus­tri­al bour­geois­ie. This is the ver­sion in the of­fi­cial communiqué. What does not seem clear at first sight is that for Riazan­ov the af­fair is lim­ited to ex­pul­sion from the party. Why has he not been ar­res­ted and ar­raigned be­fore the Su­preme Tribunal for con­spir­acy against the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at? Such a ques­tion must pose it­self to every thought­ful per­son, even to those who do not know the ac­cused. The latest communiqués say that Riazan­ov is named in the in­dict­ment by Krylen­ko. To be a de­fend­ant to­mor­row?

The Men­shev­iks and the So­cial Re­volu­tion­ar­ies rep­res­ent parties which seek the rees­tab­lish­ment of cap­it­al­ism. The Men­shev­iks and the So­cial Re­volu­tion­ar­ies are dis­tin­guished from oth­er parties of cap­it­al­ist res­tor­a­tion by the fact that they hope to give the bour­geois re­gime in Rus­sia “demo­crat­ic” forms. There are very strong cur­rents in these parties which be­lieve that any re­gime in Rus­sia, re­gard­less of its polit­ic­al form, would be more pro­gress­ive than the Bolshev­ik re­gime. The po­s­i­tion of the Men­shev­iks and the So­cial Re­volu­tion­ar­ies is coun­ter­re­volu­tion­ary in the most pre­cise and ob­ject­ive sense of the word, that is, in the class sense. This po­s­i­tion can­not but lead to at­tempts to util­ize the dis­con­tent of the masses for a so­cial up­ris­ing. The activ­ity of the Men­shev­iks and the So­cial Re­volu­tion­ar­ies is noth­ing but the pre­par­a­tion for such an up­ris­ing. Are blocs of the Men­shev­iks and the So­cial Re­volu­tion­ar­ies with the in­dus­tri­al bour­geois­ie ex­cluded? Not at all. The policy of the so­cial demo­cracy throughout the world is based upon the idea of a co­ali­tion with the bour­geois­ie against the “re­ac­tion” and the re­volu­tion­ary pro­let­ari­at. The policy of the Men­shev­iks and the So­cial Re­volu­tion­ar­ies in 1917 was en­tirely based upon the prin­ciple of the co­ali­tion with the lib­er­al bour­geois­ie, re­pub­lic­an as well as mon­arch­ic­al. The parties which be­lieve that there is no way out for Rus­sia oth­er than a re­turn to a bour­geois re­gime can­not but make a bloc with the bour­geois­ie. The lat­ter can­not re­fuse aid, in­clud­ing fin­an­cial aid, to its demo­crat­ic aux­il­i­ar­ies. With­in these lim­its everything is clear, for it flows from the very nature of things. But how could Com­rade Riazan­ov hap­pen to be among the par­ti­cipants in the Men­shev­ik con­spir­acy? Here we are con­fron­ted by an ob­vi­ous en­igma.

When Syrtsov was ac­cused of “double-deal­ing,” every con­scious work­er must have asked: How could an Old Bolshev­ik who, not so long ago, was put by the Cent­ral Com­mit­tee in­to the post of chair­man of the Coun­cil of People’s Com­mis­sars sud­denly be­come the il­leg­al de­fend­er of opin­ions which he re­futed and con­demned of­fi­cially? From this fact one could only es­tab­lish the ex­treme du­pli­city of the Sta­lin­ist re­gime, in which the real opin­ions of the mem­bers of the gov­ern­ment are es­tab­lished only by the in­ter­ven­tion of the GPU.

But in the Syrtsov case, it was only a mat­ter of a con­flict between the cent­rists and the right-wing­ers of the party, and noth­ing more. The Riazan­ov “case” is in­com­par­ably more sig­ni­fic­ant and more strik­ing. All of Riazan­ov’s activ­ity was mani­fes­ted in the realm of ideas, of books, of pub­lic­a­tions, and by that fact alone it was un­der the con­stant scru­tiny of hun­dreds of thou­sands of read­ers throughout the world. Fi­nally, and most im­port­antly, Riazan­ov is ac­cused not of sym­pathy for the de­vi­ation of the right-wing­ers in the party, but of par­ti­cip­a­tion in the coun­ter­re­volu­tion­ary con­spir­acy.

That nu­mer­ous mem­bers of the Com­mun­ist Party of the So­viet Uni­on, the­or­eti­cians and prac­ti­tion­ers of the gen­er­al line, are Men­shev­iks without know­ing it; that nu­mer­ous former Men­shev­iks, who have changed their names but not their es­sence, suc­cess­fully oc­cupy the most re­spons­ible posts (people’s com­mis­sars, am­bas­sad­ors, etc.); and that with­in the frame­work of the CPSU no mean place is oc­cu­pied, along­side the Besse­dovskys, the Agabekovs, and oth­er cor­rup­ted and de­mor­al­ized ele­ments, by dir­ect agents of the Men­shev­iks — on that score we have no doubts at all. The Sta­lin­ist re­gime is the breed­ing ground of all sorts of germs of de­com­pos­i­tion in the party. But the Riazan­ov “case” can­not be­set in­to this frame­work. Riazan­ov is not an up­start, an ad­ven­tur­ist, a Besse­dovsky, or any sort of agent of the Men­shev­iks. Riazan­ov’s line of de­vel­op­ment can be traced year by year, in ac­cord­ance with facts and doc­u­ments, art­icles and books. In the per­son of Riazan­ov we have a man who for more than forty years has par­ti­cip­ated in the re­volu­tion­ary move­ment; and every stage of his activ­ity has in one way or an­oth­er entered in­to the his­tory of the pro­let­ari­an party. Riazan­ov had ser­i­ous dif­fer­ences with the party at vari­ous times, in­clud­ing the time of Len­in or, rather, es­pe­cially in the time of Len­in, when Riazan­ov par­ti­cip­ated act­ively in the day-to-day for­mu­la­tion of party policy. In one of his speeches Len­in spoke dir­ectly of the strong side of Riazan­ov and of his weak side. Len­in did not see Riazan­ov as a politi­cian. Speak­ing of his strong side, Len­in had in mind his ideal­ism, his deep de­vo­tion to Marx­ist doc­trine, his ex­cep­tion­al eru­di­tion, his hon­esty in prin­ciples, his in­transigence in de­fense of the her­it­age of Marx and En­gels. That is pre­cisely why the party put Riazan­ov at the head of the Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute which he him­self had cre­ated. The work of Riazan­ov had in­ter­na­tion­al im­port­ance, not only of a his­torico-sci­entif­ic but also a re­volu­tion­ary and polit­ic­al char­ac­ter. Marx­ism is in­con­ceiv­able without the ac­cept­ance of the re­volu­tion­ary dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at. Men­shev­ism is the bour­geois-demo­crat­ic re­fut­a­tion of this dic­tat­or­ship. In de­fend­ing Marx­ism against re­vi­sion­ism, Riazan­ov, by all of his activ­ity, con­duc­ted a struggle against the so­cial demo­cracy and con­sequently against the Rus­si­an Men­shev­iks. How then is Riazan­ov’s prin­cipled po­s­i­tion to be re­con­ciled with his par­ti­cip­a­tion in the Men­shev­ik con­spir­acy? To this ques­tion there is no reply. And we think that there can­not be a reply. We are ab­so­lutely cer­tain that Riazan­ov did not par­ti­cip­ate in any con­spir­acy. But in that case, where does the ac­cus­a­tion come from? If it is in­ven­ted, then by whom and to­ward what end?

To this we can give only hy­po­thet­ic­al ex­plan­a­tions, based, nev­er­the­less, upon a suf­fi­ciently ad­equate ac­quaint­ance with the people and the cir­cum­stances. We will as­sist ourselves, moreover, with polit­ic­al lo­gic and re­volu­tion­ary psy­cho­logy. Neither the one nor the oth­er can be ab­ol­ished by Tass dis­patches.

Com­rade Riazan­ov dir­ec­ted a vast sci­entif­ic in­sti­tu­tion. He re­quired nu­mer­ous qual­i­fied per­son­nel as col­lab­or­at­ors: people ini­ti­ated in Marx­ism, the his­tory of the re­volu­tion­ary move­ment, the prob­lems of the class struggle, and those who knew for­eign lan­guages. Bolshev­iks hav­ing the same qual­it­ies oc­cupy, al­most without ex­cep­tion, re­spons­ible ad­min­is­trat­ive posts and are not avail­able for a sci­entif­ic in­sti­tu­tion. On the oth­er hand, among the Men­shev­iks there are nu­mer­ous idle politi­cians who have re­tired from the struggle or who, at least pre­tend to have re­tired. In the do­main of his­tor­ic­al re­search, of com­ment­ary, of an­nota­tion, of trans­la­tion, of im­port­ant cor­rec­tion, etc., Com­rade Riazan­ov based him­self to a cer­tain ex­tent on this type of Men­shev­ik in re­treat. In the in­sti­tute they played about the same role that the bour­geois en­gin­eers play in the State Plan­ning Com­mis­sion and the oth­er eco­nom­ic bod­ies. A com­mun­ist who dir­ects any in­sti­tu­tion, as a gen­er­al rule de­fends “his” spe­cial­ists, some­times even those who lead him around by the nose. The most il­lu­min­at­ing ex­ample of this is giv­en by the former chair­man of the State Plan­ning Com­mis­sion, mem­ber of the Cent­ral Com­mit­tee Krzhyzhan­ovsky, who for many years, foam­ing at the mouth, de­fen­ded against the Op­pos­i­tion the min­im­um pro­grams and plans of his saboteur-sub­or­din­ates. The dir­ect­or of the Marx-En­gels In­sti­tute felt im­pelled to as­sume the de­fense of his Men­shev­ik col­lab­or­at­ors when they were threatened with ar­rest and de­port­a­tion. This role of de­fend­er, not al­ways crowned with suc­cess, has not been prac­ticed by Riazan­ov only since yes­ter­day. Every­body, in­clud­ing Len­in, knew it; some joked about it, un­der­stand­ing per­fectly well the “ad­min­is­trat­ive” in­terests that guided Riazan­ov.

There is no doubt that cer­tain Men­shev­ik col­lab­or­at­ors, per­haps the ma­jor­ity, used the in­sti­tute to cov­er up their con­spir­at­ori­al work (con­ceal­ment of archives and doc­u­ments; cor­res­pond­ence, con­tacts abroad, etc.). One can ima­gine that Riazan­ov was not al­ways suf­fi­ciently at­tent­ive to the ad­mon­i­tions com­ing from the party, and showed an ex­cess­ive be­ne­vol­ence to­ward his per­fi­di­ous col­lab­or­at­ors. But we think that this is the ex­treme lim­it of the ac­cus­a­tion that might be leveled against Com­rade Riazan­ov. The books ed­ited by Riazan­ov are be­fore the eyes of every­body: there is neither Men­shev­ism nor sab­ot­age in them, as in the eco­nom­ic plans of Stal­in-Krzhyzhan­ovsky.

But if one ac­cepts the fact that Riazan­ov’s mis­take does not ex­ceed cred­u­lous pro­tec­tion of the Men­shev­ik spe­cial­ists, where then does the ac­cus­a­tion of treas­on come from? We know from re­cent ex­per­i­ence that the Sta­lin­ist GPU is cap­able of send­ing an of­ficer of Wran­gel in­to the ranks of ir­re­proach­able re­volu­tion­ists. Men­zh­in­sky and Ya­goda would not hes­it­ate for a mo­ment to at­trib­ute any crime what­so­ever to Riazan­ov as soon as they were ordered to do so. But who ordered it? Who would have gained by it? Who sought this in­ter­na­tion­al scan­dal around the name of Riazan­ov?

It is pre­cisely on this that we can ad­vance ex­plan­a­tions that are com­pel­lingly dic­tated by all the cir­cum­stances. In re­cent years Riazan­ov had with­drawn from act­ive polit­ics. In this sense he shared the fate of many old mem­bers of the party who, des­pair in their hearts, left the in­tern­al life of the party and shut them­selves up in eco­nom­ic or cul­tur­al work. It is only this resig­na­tion that per­mit­ted Riazan­ov to in­sure his in­sti­tute against dev­ast­a­tion in the whole post-Len­in­ist peri­od. But in the last year it be­came im­possible to main­tain one­self in this po­s­i­tion. The life of the party, es­pe­cially since the Six­teenth Con­gress, has been con­ver­ted in­to a con­tinu­al ex­am­in­a­tion of loy­alty to the chief, the one and only. In every unit, there now are agents fresh from the plebis­cite who on every oc­ca­sion in­ter­rog­ate the hes­it­ant and the ir­res­ol­ute: Do they re­gard Stal­in as an in­fal­lible chief, as a great the­or­eti­cian, as a clas­sic of Marx­ism? Are they ready on the New Year to swear loy­alty to the chief of the party — to Stal­in? The less the party shows it­self cap­able of con­trolling it­self through ideo­lo­gic­al struggle, the more the bur­eau­cracy is forced to con­trol the party with the aid of agent pro­vocateurs.

For many years Riazan­ov was able to hold his tongue very prudently — too prudently — on a whole series of burn­ing ques­tions. But Riazan­ov was or­gan­ic­ally in­cap­able of cow­ardice, of plat­it­udes; any os­ten­ta­tious dis­play of the sen­ti­ment of loy­alty was re­pug­nant to him. One can ima­gine that in the meet­ings of the in­sti­tute he of­ten flew in­to a pas­sion against the cor­rup­ted young­sters of that in­nu­mer­able or­der of young pro­fess­ors who usu­ally un­der­stand very little of Marx­ism but can ex­cel in false­hood and in­form­ing. This type of in­tern­al clique, no doubt, for a long time had its can­did­ate for the post of dir­ect­or of the in­sti­tute and, what is still more im­port­ant its con­nec­tions with the GPU and the sec­ret­ari­at of the Cent­ral Com­mit­tee. Had Riazan­ov al­luded some­where, even if only in a few words, to the fact that Marx and En­gels were only fore­run­ners of Stal­in, then all the stratagems of these un­scru­pu­lous young­sters would have col­lapsed and no Krylen­ko would have dared to make a com­plaint against Riazan­ov for his be­ne­vol­ence to­ward the Men­shev­ik trans­lat­ors. But Riazan­ov did not ac­cept this. As for the gen­er­al sec­ret­ari­at, it was un­able to make any fur­ther con­ces­sions.

Hav­ing ac­quired the power of the ap­par­at­us, Stal­in feels him­self weak­er than ever in­tern­ally. He knows him­self well and that is why he fears his own po­s­i­tion. He needs daily con­firm­a­tion of his role of dic­tat­or. The plebis­cit­ary re­gime is piti­less: it does not re­con­cile it­self with doubts, it de­mands per­petu­al en­thu­si­ast­ic ac­know­ledg­ment. This is why Riazan­ov’s turn came. If Bukhar­in and Rykov fell vic­tim to their “plat­form,” which it is true they have re­nounced two or three times, Riazan­ov fell vic­tim to his per­son­al hon­esty. The old re­volu­tion­ist said to him­self to serve while hold­ing one’s tongue with clenched teeth — good; to be an en­thu­si­ast­ic lackey — im­possible. That is why Riazan­ov fell un­der the justice of the party of the Yaroslavskys. Then Ya­goda fur­nished the ele­ments of the ac­cus­a­tion. In con­clu­sion, Riazan­ov was de­clared a trait­or to the party and an agent of the coun­ter­re­volu­tion.

In the Com­mun­ist Party of the So­viet Uni­on and in the West­ern parties of the Comin­tern, there are many who ob­serve with con­sterna­tion the activ­it­ies of the Sta­lin­ist bur­eau­cracy. But they jus­ti­fy their passiv­ity, say­ing: “What can be done? One must hold one’s tongue in or­der not to shake the found­a­tion of the dic­tat­or­ship.” This pos­sib­il­ism is not only cow­ardly, it is blind. In­stead of the found­a­tion of the dic­tat­or­ship, the ap­par­at­us of the of­fi­cial party is more and more be­ing con­ver­ted in­to an in­stru­ment for its dis­in­teg­ra­tion. This pro­cess can­not be ar­res­ted by si­lence. In­tern­al ex­plo­sions are oc­cur­ring more and more fre­quently, each time in a more threat­en­ing form. The struggle against the Sta­lin­ist re­gime is a struggle for the Marx­ist found­a­tion of a pro­let­ari­an policy. This can­not be won without party demo­cracy. The plebis­cit­ary re­gime of Stal­in by its very nature is not dur­able. So that it shall not be li­quid­ated by class en­emies, it is in­dis­pens­able to li­quid­ate it by the ef­forts of the ad­vanced ele­ments of the Com­mun­ist In­ter­na­tion­al. This is the les­son of the Riazan­ov “case”!


Theories of the young Marx

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Wer die Ju­gend hat, hat die Zukun­ft.

— Karl Lieb­knecht

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In a civil­iz­a­tion that’s grown old, ours is a cul­ture that prizes youth. No longer as pres­age to a ra­di­ant fu­ture, but part of a per­man­ent present. Philo­sophy paints its gray on gray onto the pages of Teen Vogue, the Ar­ab Spring fol­lowed by an Is­lam­ist Winter. From Young Thug to la jeune-fille — to the fa­mil­i­ar re­frain of “I like their early stuff bet­ter” — all beauty is fleet­ing, as the pro­verb goes. A sea­son or so later, it loses its luster. Ef­forts at re­in­ven­tion or renov­a­tion more of­ten than not end up a laugh­ing stock. Worse yet: ig­nored. Mod­ern­ity thrives off the eph­em­er­al, Baudelaire no­ticed long ago, to the point that an en­tire style took youth as its theme. “Ju­gend­stil is a de­clar­a­tion of per­man­ent pu­berty,” ob­served Ad­orno, “a uto­pia that barters off its own un­real­iz­ab­il­ity… Hatred of the new ori­gin­ates in a con­cealed ten­et of bour­geois on­to­logy: that the tran­si­ent should be tran­si­ent, that death should have the last word.”

ht­tp://www.you­tube.com/watch?v=j74lQbwZFBw
ht­tp://www.you­tube.com/watch?v=Dz-1BLjQlHo

Raoul Peck’s film Der junge Karl Marx premiered last month in Ber­lin. It’s his second ma­jor re­lease already this year, the first be­ing I am Not Your Negro, a doc­u­ment­ary based on the life of the Afric­an-Amer­ic­an writer James Bald­win. Though it was nom­in­ated for an academy award, the Haitian film­maker’s ef­fort ul­ti­mately lost out to the five-part ES­PN epic OJ Simpson: Made in Amer­ica. Most of the Marx biop­ic was shot in Bel­gi­um back in 2015. While I’m al­ways wary of sil­ver screen por­tray­als of great his­tor­ic­al fig­ures, I per­son­ally can’t wait to see it. As a way of cel­eb­rat­ing its de­but, then, I’m post­ing sev­er­al ma­jor art­icles and es­says on the theme of the “young” Marx. Usu­ally, the young­er Marx is con­tras­ted with or coun­ter­posed to the older Marx, al­though the dates as­signed to each phase is a mat­ter of some con­tro­versy among schol­ars. If you don’t be­lieve me, just glance at the fol­low­ing pieces to get a sense of the wide range of opin­ions:

    1. Erich Fromm, “The Con­tinu­ity in Marx’s Thought” (1961)
    2. Gajo Petrović, “The ‘Young’ and the ‘Old’ Marx” (1964)
    3. Louis Althusser, “On The Young Marx (1960) and “The Evol­u­tion of the ‘Young’ Marx” (1974)
    4. Ir­ing Fetscher, “The Young and the Old Marx” (1970)
    5. István Mészáros, “The Con­tro­versy about Marx” (1970)
    6. Paul Mat­tick, “Re­view of Marx Be­fore Marx­ism (1971)
    7. Lu­cio Col­letti, In­tro­duc­tion to The Early Writ­ings of Karl Marx (1973)
    8. Michel Henry, “The Hu­man­ism of the Young Marx” (1976)

Fromm was of course an early standout of the Frank­furt In­sti­tute of So­cial Re­search, al­though he later drif­ted away from its aus­pices. He and Her­bert Mar­cuse were both in­flu­enced by the 1932 dis­cov­ery and pub­lic­a­tion of Marx’s so-called “Par­is manuscripts,” writ­ten in 1844. (Mar­cuse and Fromm would also even­tu­ally be­come es­tranged). Petrović was part of the Yugoslavi­an Prax­is school of Marx­ist hu­man­ism, and de­veloped his read­ing of these early works in close cor­res­pond­ence with Fromm. Along with his coun­try­men Danilo Pejović and Mi­hailo Marković, Petrović con­trib­uted to a block­buster 1964 volume on so­cial­ist hu­man­ism un­der Fromm’s ed­it­or­ship. In­cid­ent­ally, it was the in­vit­a­tion sent out to Althusser ur­ging him to take part in this in­ter­na­tion­al sym­posi­um that triggered the “hu­man­ist con­tro­versy.”

The French philo­soph­er later re­called:

The “hu­man­ist con­tro­versy” began as peace­fully as could be ima­gined. One sum­mer day in 1963, at a friend’s house, I happened to meet Adam Schaff, a lead­ing mem­ber of one of our Com­mun­ist parties. (Charged by the lead­er­ship of the Pol­ish Com­mun­ist Party with re­spons­ib­il­ity for the “in­tel­lec­tu­als,” Schaff is both a philo­soph­er known for his books on se­mantics and the prob­lem of man in Marx­ism, I and a high-rank­ing party lead­er es­teemed for his cul­tiv­a­tion and open-minded­ness. He was on his way back from the United States, where he had giv­en talks on Marx to large, en­thu­si­ast­ic aca­dem­ic audi­ences). Schaff told me about a project un­der the dir­ec­tion of Erich Fromm, whom he knew well and had re­cently met in the USA. Be­fore the war, in the 1930s, Fromm had been con­nec­ted with a Ger­man Marx­ist group with ul­tra-left tend­en­cies that aired its views in an eph­em­er­al journ­al. the Zeits­chrift für Sozi­ai­forschung. It was in this journ­al that [Theodor] Ad­orno, [Max] Horkheimer, [Franz] Borkenau, and oth­ers first made a name for them­selves. Nazism drove Fromm in­to ex­ile, as it did many oth­ers. He has since be­come fam­ous for his es­says on mod­ern “con­sumer” so­ci­ety, which he ana­lyses with the help of con­cepts de­rived from a cer­tain con­front­a­tion between Marx­ism and Freu­di­an­ism. Fromm had just re­leased, in the United States, a trans­la­tion of se­lec­tions from texts by the young Marx [Marx’s Concept of Man, 1961]; eager to gain a wider audi­ence for Marx­ism, he now had plans to pub­lish a sub­stan­tial col­lect­ive work on “so­cial­ist hu­man­ism,” and was so­li­cit­ing con­tri­bu­tions from Marx­ist philo­soph­ers from coun­tries in the West and the East. Schaff in­sisted that I par­ti­cip­ate in this project. I had, moreover, re­ceived a let­ter from Fromm a few days earli­er. Why had Fromm, whom I did not know, writ­ten to me? It was Schaff who had brought my ex­ist­ence to his at­ten­tion.

I wrote my art­icle im­me­di­ately. Just in case, and with an eye to the pub­lic that would be read­ing it, a pub­lic I did not know, I made it very short and too clear, and even took the pre­cau­tion of sub­ject­ing it to a “re­write,” that is, of mak­ing it even short­er and clear­er. In two lines I settled the ques­tion of the early Marx’s in­tel­lec­tu­al de­vel­op­ment with no ifs, ands, and buts, and in ten wrapped up the his­tory of philo­sophy, polit­ic­al eco­nomy, and eth­ics in the sev­en­teenth and eight­eenth cen­tur­ies; I went right to the point, with tol­er­ably un­re­fined ar­gu­ments and con­cepts (a sledge­ham­mer op­pos­i­tion of sci­ence and ideo­logy) that would, if they did not quite man­age to con­vince, at least hit home. I went so far as to in­dulge in a bit of the­or­et­ic­al mis­chief — flat­ter­ing my­self that it would fall in­to the cat­egory of Anglo-Sax­on hu­mor and be per­ceived as such — by put­ting for­ward, in all ser­i­ous­ness, the pre­pos­ter­ous concept of a “class” hu­man­ism. I had my art­icle trans­lated in­to Eng­lish by a com­pet­ent friend who, I knew, would be all the more me­tic­u­lous be­cause his ideas were as far from mine as they could pos­sibly be; and I pos­ted this short ad hoc text without delay. Time was of the es­sence: dead­lines. I waited. Time passed. I kept on wait­ing. It was sev­er­al months be­fore I re­ceived an an­swer from Fromm. He was ter­ribly, ter­ribly sorry. My text was ex­tremely in­ter­est­ing; he didn’t ques­tion its in­trins­ic value; but, de­cidedly, it had no place in the project… Pro­fes­sions of grat­it­ude, ex­cuses. My law of the dis­place­ment of the dom­in­ant had failed to come in­to play. The same went for the hu­man­ist-there­fore-lib­er­al syl­lo­gism: all a mat­ter of the con­junc­ture. One more reas­on for think­ing that between hu­man­ism and lib­er­al­ism on the one hand, and the con­junc­ture on the oth­er, there ex­is­ted something like — as, moreover, my art­icle said, in black and white — a non-ac­ci­dent­al re­la­tion.

Like the Itali­an the­or­eti­cian and Marx­o­lo­gist Lu­cio Col­letti, Althusser was a staunch anti-Hegel­i­an, though the two agreed on little else. Col­letti was a fol­low­er of Gal­vano della Volpe when they first crossed paths, re­call­ing the en­counter years later in con­ver­sa­tion with Perry An­der­son: “When we first met in Italy, Althusser showed me some of the art­icles he later col­lec­ted in For Marx. My ini­tial im­pres­sion on read­ing them was that there was a con­sid­er­able con­ver­gence of po­s­i­tions between him and ourselves, my main re­ser­va­tion about this was that he didn’t ap­pear to have mastered the can­ons of philo­soph­ic­al tra­di­tion ad­equately.” Des­pite this prima facie af­fin­ity, there was a great deal of di­ver­gence that played out in sub­sequent texts. For Col­letti, the 1844 manuscripts and the­ory of ali­en­a­tion de­veloped therein still fall with­in the pur­view of Marxi­an sci­ence.

Plus, avowed anti-Hegel­ian­ism aside, Col­letti was at least hon­est enough to re­cog­nize that “the themes of ali­en­a­tion and fet­ish­ism are present not only in Cap­it­al, but throughout the whole of the later Marx — not just the Grundrisse, but the The­or­ies of Sur­plus Value as well, for hun­dreds of pages on end. Althusser’s ad­mis­sion of their pres­ence in Cap­it­al in fact un­der­mines his whole pre­vi­ous for­mu­la­tion of a ‘break’ between the young and the old Marx.” Col­letti’s re­con­struc­tion of Marx’s in­tel­lec­tu­al de­vel­op­ment, while im­press­ive, is un­der­cut by his gen­er­al aver­sion to Hegel­i­an dia­lectics and his sud­den shift to­ward a mod­el based upon the nat­ur­al sci­ences. Kev­in An­der­son raises a num­ber of crit­ic­al ob­jec­tions to the con­clu­sions reached by Col­letti.

Ir­ing Fetscher and István Mészáros both be­longed to the Hegel­i­an Marx­ist tra­di­tion, rather than the struc­tur­al Marx­ism of Althusser or sci­entif­ic (“hy­po­thet­ico-de­duct­ive”) Marx­ism of Col­letti. Fetscher was a stu­dent of Theodor Ad­orno, and thus part of the second gen­er­a­tion of the so-called Frank­furt School. Mészáros was a stu­dent of Georg Lukács, by con­trast, and thus part of the so-called Bud­apest School. Each is a more re­li­able in­ter­pret­er of Marx than either Althusser or Col­letti. Neither is as pre­oc­cu­pied with the “hu­man­ist” as­pect of Marx’s thought as Fromm or Petrović. The ques­tion of “hu­man­ism” is one of the more te­di­ous and mis­lead­ing Marx­o­lo­gic­al de­bates out there, something I’ve main­tained in the past. Both Fetscher and Mészáros are good at re­lat­ing rival the­or­et­ic­al in­ter­pret­a­tions of Marx to prac­tic­al di­ver­gences with­in Marx­ism, and the lat­ter in par­tic­u­lar des­troys Althusser.

Round­ing out this se­lec­tion of texts are the Ger­man-Amer­ic­an coun­cil com­mun­ist Paul Mat­tick and the French phe­nomen­o­lo­gist Michel Henry. Without a doubt, they’re nearly total op­pos­ites: Mat­tick prefers the sober and sys­tem­at­ic cri­tique of polit­ic­al eco­nomy con­duc­ted by the Marx of Cap­it­al to the youth­ful in­tu­itions of 1844, though he main­tains con­tinu­ity from one peri­od to the next. Henry’s highly idio­syn­crat­ic in­ter­pret­a­tion stresses “the in­com­pat­ib­il­ity of Marx’s philo­soph­ic­al thought with Marx­ism,” a dis­tinc­tion Mat­tick would not have gran­ted, des­pite his clear pref­er­ence for Marx over the of­fi­cial state ideo­lo­gies set up by au­thor­it­ari­an re­gimes in his name. Mat­tick took is­sue with the im­age of the young Marx as some sort of proto-ex­ist­en­tial­ist, which was em­braced by philo­soph­ers and theo­lo­gians alike.

Writ­ing as these au­thors were in the roughly two-dec­ade span between 1956 and 1976, they dealt primar­ily with 1) the broad­er dis­sem­in­a­tion of hitherto un­known texts by Marx and 2) the mostly verbal re­pu­di­ation of Sta­lin­ism by Nikita Khrushchev in 1956. Al­though dis­covered and pub­lished some time earli­er — “A Cri­tique of Hegel’s Philo­sophy of Right” and Eco­nom­ic and Philo­soph­ic­al Manuscripts both in 1927, The Ger­man Ideo­logy in 1932, then fi­nally the Grundrisse in 1939 — their im­port­ance was down­played in the stifling at­mo­sphere of So­viet dis­course. Only after Stal­in’s death in 1953 were they giv­en a fair hear­ing. Con­cur­rent polit­ic­al de­bates played them­selves out in dis­cus­sions re­gard­ing the sig­ni­fic­ance of these earli­er, un­pub­lished texts.

More re­cently, an­oth­er wave of schol­ar­ship has ap­peared try­ing to settle the ques­tion of the “young” Marx’s re­la­tion­ship to the “old.” Today the polit­ic­al stakes of the ques­tion are far lower, to be sure, with the col­lapse of “ac­tu­ally-ex­ist­ing so­cial­ism” in Yugoslavia, the Warsaw Pact, and USSR, which might be seen as an ad­vant­age over pre­vi­ous in­quir­ies: an­swers are less politi­cized, less be­hold­en to of­fi­cial state ideo­lo­gies, and more a purely aca­dem­ic af­fair. Rival schools of Marx­o­logy still ex­ist, though, so it’s not as if the field is a neut­ral one. All the same, ar­che­olo­gic­al re­con­struc­tion of Marx’s cor­pus is more com­plete than ever. Here are a few rep­res­ent­at­ive titles:

    1. Pierre Macherey, “Althusser and the Young Marx” (2002)
    2. Roberto Finelli, A Failed Par­ri­cide: Hegel and the Young Marx (2004)
    3. Dav­id Leo­pold, The Young Karl Marx: Ger­man Philo­sophy, Mod­ern Polit­ics, and Hu­man Flour­ish­ing (2007)
    4. Tom Rock­more, “Marx’s Early Writ­ings” (2008)
    5. Daniel Lopez, “Ali­en­a­tion Marx’s Early Writ­ing” (2013)
    6. Go­pal Bal­akrish­nan, “The Ab­ol­i­tion­ist, Part 1” and “The Ab­ol­i­tion­ist, Part 2” (2014)
    7. Mar­cello Musto, “The ‘Young Marx’ Myth in In­ter­pret­a­tions of the Eco­nom­ic-Philo­soph­ic Manuscripts of 1844 (2015)
    8. McK­en­zie Wark, “Althus­seri­ans An­onym­ous” (2016)

But the mat­ter of Marx’s in­tel­lec­tu­al de­vel­op­ment has al­ways been con­tro­ver­sial, since the in­aug­ur­a­tion of Marx­ism it­self. This will thus form our point of de­par­ture in ex­plor­ing the polit­ics be­hind the ques­tions: How many Marxes were there? And what should be the weight ac­cor­ded to each? Over the next couple weeks or so I in­tend to sketch the dis­cov­ery and dis­sem­in­a­tion of Marx’s early writ­ings, fol­lowed by an over­view of the vari­ous ways the “young” Marx was coun­ter­posed to the “old.”


Kendall Jenner Pepsi ad

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The real reas­on left­ists are so up­set about the Pep­si ad is that it puts all their purely per­form­at­ive, feel­good protest ac­tions on blast.
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Of course, this is hardly the first time an os­tens­ibly an­ti­cap­it­al­ist move­ment has been ef­fort­lessly re­cu­per­ated by cap­it­al­ism. My per­son­al fa­vor­ite has to be the AXE Peace ad­vert from 2014, which took an­ti­war im­agery from the pre­ced­ing dec­ade and offered it back up in the form of a body-spray. Wells Fargo sponsored a Black Lives Mat­ter event last year in which it even praised the Black Pan­thers, but then re­jec­ted a cus­tom-de­signed deb­it card fea­tur­ing a fist and the text “Black Lives Are Im­port­ant.” This des­pite the fact the bank­ing com­pany was just sued for ra­cial bi­as in deny­ing loans to black and Latino fam­il­ies.

Love it or hate it, one must give the devil its due: Global capitalism has proved far more resilient than either its harshest critics or most fer­vent champions ever expected. You have to ad­mire its per­verse abil­ity to in­cor­por­ate everything that pur­ports to op­pose it in­to it­self while also adding a price-tag.

trumpkanye_e4ee8eca2f2d21d3b52f900dc84bc27e.nbcnews-ux-600-480

“Com­mun­ism is not rad­ic­al,” the Marx­ist poet and play­wright Ber­to­lt Brecht once told his friend, the crit­ic Wal­ter Ben­jamin. “It is cap­it­al­ism that is rad­ic­al.” Here Brecht prob­ably had in mind the re­mark Len­in made some twenty years earli­er, ur­ging com­mun­ists to be “as rad­ic­al as real­ity it­self.” The real­ity to which he im­pli­citly re­ferred to was none oth­er than that of cap­it­al­ism. And per­haps he’s right — we’re still much too harm­less.

“Real­ist­ic dis­sid­ence is the trade­mark of any­one who has a new idea in busi­ness.” — Theodor Ad­orno, The Cul­ture In­dustry


Kendall Jenner PEPSI protest commercial 2017
AXE Peace _ Call to Arms (Official Extended Cut)

Gary Johnson, Syria, and the apocalypse

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The best we can do right now with re­spect to Syr­ia and vari­ous oth­er world-his­tor­ic­al phe­nom­ena is pre­dict likely out­comes, since we have no abil­ity to mean­ing­fully al­ter the course of events. Ex­cept, of course, if we’re pre­pared to fig­ure out what it would take to as­sert and ex­er­cise real agency in his­tory, something which is much harder than just shout­ing an­ti­war or hu­man­it­ari­an in­ter­ven­tion­ist plat­it­udes. It in­volves identi­fy­ing the forces with­in so­ci­ety that could bend the blind hap­pen­stance of the mar­ket and the clumsy in­trigues of state powers to its will. Po­s­i­tion-tak­ing and slo­gan­eer­ing are mean­ing­less and vain in the ab­sence of ef­fect­ive re­volu­tion­ary prac­tice.

For the time be­ing, however, it has very been en­ter­tain­ing to see Richard Spen­cer and his “Alt-Right” al­lies lose their col­lect­ive shit over Trump’s sud­den 180° with re­spect to Syr­ia. Al­most on cue and all at once, 4chan’s /pol/ seemed to suf­fer an an­eurysm. Some of its mem­bers com­plained that this would mean more Muslim im­mig­rants the West. Oth­ers called upon the an­onym­ous hordes to form a bloc with Putin and wage holy war against the Jews. Mean­while, Steve Ban­non has fallen out of fa­vor in the White House, cucked by the “glob­al­ist” New Jer­sey Demo­crat Jared Kush­ner. With this de­vel­op­ment, lib­er­als might have fi­nally got­ten their wish. Be­cause if Ivanka is now the one really pulling the strings, to stick with the pup­pet-mas­ter meta­phor, then it’s as if Hil­lary Clin­ton got elec­ted after all.

Lib­er­als’ main ob­jec­tion to Trump has al­ways been aes­thet­ic, rather than prin­cipled or sub­stant­ive. They miss the smooth, well-spoken, at times in­spir­a­tion­al rhet­or­ic of someone like Obama to the bizarre toi­let bowl of free as­so­ci­ation that comes out of Trump’s mouth. At the level of policy the two could be com­pletely identic­al, but no one would care so long as everything was de­livered with the right pres­id­en­tial pack­aging. Com­rade Em­met Pen­ney con­veys this grim truth rather well:

So after run­ning a can­did­ate down­loaded from the un­canny val­ley — who didn’t be­lieve in or stand for any­thing, really — and money­balling their way to de­feat against a gold-plated, syph­il­it­ic so­ciopath, I’m see­ing all these mem­bers of the Demo­crat­ic “#Res­ist­ance” come out in full sup­port of the Syr­ia strikes like the bat­talion of over­paid cow­ards they’ve al­ways been.

It’ll be tite af when they re­in­sti­tute con­scrip­tion and make you use an app struc­tured like Obama­care where you pick from com­pet­ing pro­viders to get body ar­mor and bul­lets be­fore ship­ping out to go die alone scream­ing for your fam­ily while their lob­by­ist mil­it­ary con­tract­or bud­dies stuff their pock­ets by the fist­ful. The fu­ture the Demo­crats want is just a gami­fied ver­sion of with the Re­pub­lic­ans want, with maybe Beyoncé play­ing in the back­ground and a sub­scrip­tion to The New York­er.

Nev­er­the­less, it could well be that Trump’s sheer un­pre­dict­ab­il­ity ac­tu­ally re­duces the chances of WW3. Putin was will­ing to play chick­en over Syr­ia with Obama, be­cause he knew Obama is a ra­tion­al guy who knows when to hit the brakes. He’s not go­ing to play that game with someone who would just as soon set him­self on fire or drive the car off a bridge for rat­ings.

All the same, with mo­bil­iz­a­tion against US mil­it­ary in­ter­ven­tion in­to Syr­ia ramp­ing up, it’s more im­port­ant than ever that com­mun­ists be able to stake out a po­s­i­tion that op­poses in­ter­ven­tion­ist wars while also re­fus­ing any sup­port for bour­geois na­tion­al­ists and tin-pot dic­tat­ors like As­sad. Over the past fifty years, anti-im­per­i­al­ists have op­por­tun­ist­ic­ally made com­mon cause with any­one and every­one who de­clare them­selves to be “anti-Amer­ic­an.” This has dis­cred­ited le­git­im­ate ef­forts to op­pose for­eign wars. Marx­ists should re­ject such co­ali­tions and or­gan­ize on an in­de­pend­ent and in­ter­na­tion­al­ist basis, ex­clud­ing na­tion­al­ists of all stripes. But I’m not hold­ing my breath.

It is in this dis­pir­it­ing mood that I’m shar­ing a re­flec­tion sub­mit­ted by Com­rade Hegel Damascene, re­mem­ber­ing the quiet dig­nity of liber­tari­an can­did­ate Gary John­son. John­son remains a beacon of bygone normie-dom in a bat­shit age.

Gary Johnson
Normie prophet in an apocalyptic age

Hegel Damascene
Interstate 95
April 8, 2017
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The tra­di­tion of all dead gen­er­a­tions weighs like a night­mare on the brains of the liv­ing.

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Sit­ting on an over­pass over I-95, watch­ing cars come onto and off of the George Wash­ing­ton Bridge, I was over­come with the feel­ing of be­ing trapped in the belly of a hor­rible ma­chine. And the ma­chine is bleed­ing to death. I al­ways used to stare at the over­passes near the Garden State Mall, the ar­ti­fi­cial mar­ket­place where high­ways meet, and think about what a Great Civil­iz­a­tion (both words cap­it­al­ized) Amer­ica was. But I saw the cracks back then, too, I just didn’t think they would open up so quickly.

Sit­ting on that un­der­pass, I half ex­pec­ted the of­fices of Kim & Bae, PC to grow legs and start lob­bing mis­siles at Bashar As­sad’s palace. Maybe the Port Au­thor­ity Po­lice build­ing was a fact­ory pro­du­cing mech­an­ic­al cops, who would march out to re­store or­der in the new Salafist prin­cip­al­ity — and de­tain any big beau­ti­ful ba­bies who wanted to leave their young uto­pia for Amer­ica, where they could be a se­cur­ity risk.

Syr­ia is both a source and mi­cro­cosm of the slow col­lapse.

The in­ter­na­tion­al in­cid­ents and refugees it pro­duces are slowly gunk­ing up the gears, but also each fac­tion sym­bol­izes a lar­ger flaw in the world sys­tem. The un­rav­el­ing of the Syr­i­an state is a fast-for­wards ver­sion of the re­cent his­tory of the “West,” with its rur­al-urb­an polit­ic­al di­vide, and a liz­ard caste will­ing to kill its own host so­ci­ety in or­der to pre­serve its power over the rubble. The dif­fer­ence is that every myth is closer to the source. The re-or­gan­iz­a­tion of so­ci­ety along sec­tari­an lines is at least a re­treat in­to iden­tit­ies with real his­tor­ic­al and theo­lo­gic­al back­ing, not a car­bon-copy flag-and-an­them myth­o­logy that’s 100 years young.

Right now I’m in a lib­rary, where I came from a party to write this, be­cause it feels like my head is ex­plod­ing. Be­neath the lay­ers of sweat and un­der­grad misery — es­pe­cially pathet­ic on a Fri­day night — it’s a temple to the myths the WASP civil­iz­a­tion has built for it­self. Hid­den be­hind the piles of Chinese and In­di­an new money, there are mur­als of early mod­ern transat­lantic ex­plorers and Greek gods per­form­ing deeds out of the fever dreams of some in­bred ar­is­to­crat from the late 19th cen­tury. All the while, the ac­tu­al des­cend­ants of Greeks are sit­ting in de­part­ments for the sub­al­terns the WASPs feel guilty stamp­ing out.

Any­one who reads between the lines of an old Greek text, rather than us­ing it as a status sym­bol, sees much more Kanda­har than Columbia, more Has­sakah than Har­vard. After all, the former is named for Al­ex­an­der.

To be fair, every myth­o­logy and iden­tity is made-up when you go far back enough.

It doesn’t mat­ter how ar­ti­fi­cial myths are, though, with a ma­ter­i­al basis. After all, al-Ma’mun got away with see­ing Ar­is­totle in a dream. The sur­face level un­rav­el­ing is the con­sequence of sys­tem­ic shocks: cli­mate change, di­min­ish­ing rate of profit, en­ergy in­stabil­ity, mod­ern hordes of Sea People jump­ing from con­flict to con­flict be­cause Saudi Ar­a­bia couldn’t think of a bet­ter meth­od of get­ting rid of its hot­headed youth than send­ing them as for­eign fight­ers. Cap­it­al­ism and the mar­ket are geni­us sys­tems of or­gan­iz­a­tion, soften­ing the blows by turn­ing these in­to chron­ic rather than acute prob­lems, but some­times it leaks through in sud­den break­downs.

The con­front­a­tion between Rus­sia and the United States in Homs, a res­ult of long­stand­ing liz­ard caste policies mag­ni­fied by Trump’s man-baby ego, is one such break­down. It was a long time in the mak­ing, but it was sup­posed to be gradu­al and con­trolled.

An­oth­er break happened last sum­mer, when the Rus­si­an am­bas­sad­or to Tur­key was as­sas­sin­ated by a rogue spe­cial forces cop in a min­im­al­ist art gal­lery. Des­pite the com­par­is­ons to Sa­ra­jevo 1914, the in­ter­na­tion­al in­cid­ent was not al­lowed to fester, be­cause it didn’t serve the goals of any power. But it make for a good spec­tacle, be­cause of how cine­mat­ic the whole thing went down. (Mor­bidly, it was al­most in­stant turned in­to an In­ter­net meme.) And so the fas­cist who shot the liz­ard was suc­cess­ful in his stated goal: ”do not for­get Aleppo!”

Gary John­son could not be reached for com­ment.

Really, though, John­son’s in­fam­ous “Aleppo mo­ment” was a dis­curs­ive slip. No one in Amer­ica out­side the liz­ard caste knew where Aleppo was, either. Hell, a large sec­tion of the liz­ards prob­ably didn’t know them­selves. But no politi­cian is al­lowed to ad­mit the lim­its of their know­ledge and power. The liz­ard caste is sup­posed to main­tain the fic­tion of om­ni­po­tence, even at the cost of self-de­struc­tion. John­son’s lam­bast­ing by the me­dia was a mo­ment for the liz­ards to dis­tract them­selves from the gan­gren­ous limb called Trump by furi­ously rub­bing dis­in­fect­ant on a pa­per-cut.

Let me save you some time by sum­mar­iz­ing liber­tari­an Aus­tri­an eco­nom­ics: none of the oth­er liz­ards know as much as they claim to — it’s ac­tu­ally im­possible — let’s take our chances with the mech­an­ist­ic sys­tems of the mar­ket rather than a ruler who might de­cide to gen­o­cide you be­cause she’s​ hav­ing a toothache, or a liz­ard who would do the same to pad his re­sume.

At his next cam­paign rally, which I was at, John­son demon­strated that he un­der­stood Syr­ia as a whole even if he got the de­tails wrong. The rally was a shit­show in many oth­er ways, but he was right about that. Many “nor­mal” people don’t know the spe­cif­ics, but they can see the gen­er­al trends. Prob­ably bet­ter then the liz­ard-caste ex­perts, in most cases. A vast ma­jor­ity are too blinkered by vari­ous parts of their daily lives, however. But they can still see the cracks widen­ing, the seams rip­ping, the em­pire eat­ing it­self alive.

And so people re­act to this im­pend­ing #doom in dif­fer­ent ways. Some join apo­ca­lyptic cults, like IS­IS or vi­ol­ent prim­it­iv­ist cells. Oth­ers put their faith in snake-oil sales­men, from Trump to Bob Avaki­an. The smarter ones try to #hustle enough to crawl to the highest point on the sink­ing ship, in hopes of jump­ing onto a life­boat. Of course, the ones in a po­s­i­tion to see the pat­terns most clearly are too damn busy try­ing to sur­vive to do any­thing else.

I’m a bit more for­tu­nate, be­cause my fam­ily ac­cu­mu­lated enough through hard work and luck that I don’t have to sup­port any­one else yet as a young adult. Of course, plenty of smart young people with the chance to get an edu­ca­tion end up climb­ing in­to the liz­ard caste. That’s where I’m really lucky; I in­her­ited enough of my my grand­par­ents’ im­mig­rant anxi­ety to see that the liz­ard caste is doomed. You need a skill that’ll keep you on the life­boat, not phys­ic­al cap­it­al you’ll have to jet­tis­on any­ways.

We need a fuck­ing ark.


Brian Williams is “guided by the beauty of our weapons” in Syria strikes
Trump watches Star Wars Rogue One before deciding to bomb Syria

Moar like Absurdo, amirite?

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Fol­low­ing the mis­sile strike on Shayr­at in West­ern Syr­ia last Thursday, a wave of protests broke out across the United States. These proved something of a mixed bag, as one might ex­pect. In ad­di­tion to those who sup­port the Free Syr­i­an Army but op­pose fur­ther Amer­ic­an in­ter­ven­tion, a num­ber of un­sa­vory sorts also showed up. Por­traits of Putin and As­sad could be seen along­side yel­low signs put out by the AN­SWER Co­ali­tion. A few flags fea­tur­ing the mod­i­fied or­ange tor­nado-swastika of the fas­cist Syr­i­an So­cial Na­tion­al­ist Party or SS­NP, a close ally of the Ba’ath­ist re­gime, also ap­peared at the demon­stra­tions. Some or­gan­izers took a more prin­cipled stand, however, re­ject­ing calls for a heightened US mil­it­ary role while at the same time re­fus­ing to march with As­sad­ists.

While I’m heartened by such un­equi­voc­al de­clar­a­tions of prin­ciple, we are still all too ready to for­give those who make ex­cuses for re­ac­tion­ar­ies. Marx­ists must do more to dis­tance ourselves from bour­geois na­tion­al­ists, re­li­gious fun­da­ment­al­ists, and oth­ers who present false al­tern­at­ives to for­eign dom­in­a­tion. Even more so, we must stop giv­ing a pass to those who dis­cred­it the an­ti­war move­ment through ca­su­istry and mor­al equi­val­ence. Un­der the crude lo­gic of “the en­emy of my en­emy is my friend,” any­one and every­one who chal­lenges Anglo-European he­ge­mony is viewed as a po­ten­tial ally. Clif­fites, like the So­cial­ist Work­ers’ Party (SWP) in Bri­tain or the In­ter­na­tion­al So­cial­ist Or­gan­iz­a­tion (ISO) in the US, lend their “crit­ic­al but un­con­di­tion­al sup­port” to openly an­ti­semit­ic groups such as Hezbol­lah and Hamas against Is­raeli ag­gres­sion in­to Ga­za. Gio­vanni Scuderi of the Marx­ist-Len­in­ist Party of Italy (PMLI) re­cently called on his fol­low­ers to unite with the Is­lam­ic State against West­ern im­per­i­al­ism.

Of course, it’s far easi­er to skew­er ob­scure sects with barely a hun­dred mem­bers than it is to do the same to be­loved Marx­ist aca­dem­ics. Domen­ico Los­urdo, for ex­ample, en­joys the repu­ta­tion in the Eng­lish-speak­ing world of a di­li­gent and wide-ran­ging in­tel­lec­tu­al his­tor­i­an. Richard Sey­mour was among the first to her­ald his work, opin­ing in 2007: “Los­urdo is, if you ask me, the best crit­ic of cap­it­al­ist ideo­logy writ­ing today.” His ar­gu­ments were cited fre­quently, moreover, in the 2010 study Fan­at­icism: On the Uses of an Idea by Ba­di­ou trans­lat­or Al­berto To­scano. Mean­while, the mono­lin­gual Hegel schol­ar Har­ris­on Fluss praises Los­urdo’s re­search to the rafters, Ishay Landa laud­ing him for his “mas­terly dia­lect­ic­al style” [meister­hafte dialekt­ische Art]. Speak­ing just for my­self, I find his book on Hegel and the Free­dom of Mod­erns (1992) to be his strongest work, though his cri­tique of Aren­dt on to­tal­it­ari­an­ism and over­view of Heide­g­ger and the Ideo­logy of War: Death, Com­munity, and the West (1991) are also pretty good.

Glan­cing at some of the PCI philo­soph­er’s past polit­ic­al po­s­i­tions, however, one is shocked to learn that he’s con­sist­ently sought to re­hab­il­it­ate both Sta­lin­ist dic­tat­ors from the age of “ac­tu­ally-ex­ist­ing so­cial­ism” as well as na­tion­al­ist strong­men whose in­terests happened to run counter to US geo­pol­it­ic­al aims in the post­com­mun­ist era. With re­gard to the lat­ter, of these, a couple of cases suf­fice to make the point. Back in the 1990s, Los­urdo was an out­spoken apo­lo­gist for Slobodan Milošević, go­ing so far as to pre­face a pamph­let in de­fense of the dis­graced Ser­bi­an lead­er as late as 2005. Milošević was sus­pec­ted of in­cit­ing vi­ol­ence against Al­bani­ans earli­er in the dec­ade as well as sub­sequent eth­nic cleans­ing cam­paigns in Bos­nia, Kosovo, and Croa­tia. Yet Milošević is not the only na­tion­al­ist strong­man Los­urdo has sup­por­ted since the fall of com­mun­ism in East­ern Europe. He earli­er de­fen­ded the Ro­mani­an premi­er Nic­olae Ceau­ses­cu, in power for dec­ades, from charges of gen­o­cide ar­ti­fi­cially con­cocted by the “lie in­dustry” [l’in­dus­tria della men­zogna] — i.e., the West­ern me­dia — which Los­urdo con­siders an “in­teg­ral part of the im­per­i­al­ist war ma­chine” [parte in­teg­rante della mac­ch­ina di guerra dell’im­per­i­al­ismo].

1989 sup­posedly marked a turn­ing point after which the in­flu­ence of the lie in­dustry (he might as well say Lü­gen­pres­se) over daily life be­came total. Los­urdo grounds these para­noid ram­blings in De­bord’s the­ory of the “so­ci­ety of the spec­tacle.” In re­cent years, he main­tains, the lie in­dustry’s fo­cus has turned to Syr­i­an pres­id­ent Bashar al-As­sad, whose re­gime the West is hop­ing to over­throw at any cost. Dis­miss­ing claims that either As­sad or Putin could be “war crim­in­als” in any sense of the word, Los­urdo in­sists that the real war crim­in­als in Syr­ia are the mas­ter­minds in Is­rael and the US, who want to destabil­ize the re­gion. He is there­fore skep­tic­al of al­leg­a­tions that Syr­i­an gov­ern­ment or Rus­si­an forces have com­mit­ted at­ro­cit­ies against ci­vil­ians caught in the con­flict. Spe­cific­ally, Los­urdo denies that bar­rel bombs or chem­ic­al weapons have been de­ployed by the re­gime. The Au­gust 2013 gas at­tacks were staged us­ing a “pho­tomont­age” tech­nique. “By mak­ing the most of its over­whelm­ing mul­ti­me­dia fire­power and new ma­nip­u­la­tion tech­no­lo­gies thanks to the In­ter­net, the West por­trays the Syr­i­an crisis as an ex­er­cise of bru­tal and gra­tu­it­ous vi­ol­ence against peace­ful and non-vi­ol­ent demon­strat­ors,” Los­urdo hy­per­bol­ic­ally wrote in a 2011 art­icle for the 9/11 truth­er Voltaire Net­work. “There is no doubt that Goebbels, evil min­is­ter of the Third Reich, has gained a fol­low­ing… One can­not but re­cog­nize that his dis­ciples in Wash­ing­ton and Brus­sels have even sur­passed their un­for­get­table mas­ter.”

Just in passing, it should be noted that Los­urdo has con­trib­uted more than fifty art­icles in sev­en dif­fer­ent lan­guages to Voltaire Net. Even his biggest fans would likely be dis­turbed by this fact, giv­en the kind of ma­ter­i­al one finds else­where on the web­site. Laurent Guyénot’s art­icle “Septem­ber 11: In­side Job or Mossad Job?” is typ­ic­al of the an­ti­semit­ic filth they reg­u­larly pub­lish. Con­spir­acy the­or­ies abound not only here but on oth­er sup­posedly left-wing ven­ues such as Coun­ter­punch, where au­thors like Is­rael Shamir and Gil­ad Atzmon are fre­quent con­trib­ut­ors. (Shamir, like Los­urdo, has also come out in de­fense of Pol Pot. Pol Pot’s ca­reer began with “a bril­liant na­tion­al-lib­er­a­tion struggle,” ac­cord­ing to Los­urdo, so it is a shame things ended so badly. Where­as Shamir con­tests the scale of vi­ol­ence in gen­er­al, Los­urdo looks to dis­place blame onto the United States. Nix­on and Kis­sing­er’s sat­ur­a­tion bomb­ing of Cam­bod­ia in the early sev­en­ties doubt­less con­trib­uted to the crisis later, but these were hardly the de­cis­ive factor. Here Los­urdo for­gets that the US ac­tu­ally helped prop up the Kh­mer Rouge in the United Na­tions as part of its deal with China, when the killing was most in­tense. Re­gard­less, re­spons­ib­il­ity is again laid at the feet of la «grande» presse d’in­form­a­tion for this por­tray­al).

But the theme of fab­ric­ated news stor­ies (fake news?) shows up throughout all of Los­urdo’s work, even his most schol­arly texts. In War and Re­volu­tion, for in­stance, he writes that “today we know that the testi­mony, state­ments, im­ages, and stills doc­u­ment­ing the at­ro­cit­ies of Wil­helmine Ger­many were the res­ult of skill­ful ma­nip­u­la­tion, to which the nas­cent US cinema in­dustry, shoot­ing scenes in New Jer­sey of the sav­age, bar­bar­ous be­ha­vi­or of Ger­man troops in Bel­gi­um, made a splen­did con­tri­bu­tion.” Los­urdo con­tin­ues: “We can now un­der­stand the ar­gu­ments of his­tor­ic­al re­vi­sion­ism, so-called ‘neg­a­tion­ism.’ For why should the sys­tem­at­ic ex­term­in­a­tion of European Je­w­ry at­trib­uted to the Third Reich not it­self be a myth? Are we just deal­ing with a new, more acute for­mu­la­tion of the charge of ritu­al murder laid against the Ger­mans, con­sum­mated in the Holo­caust of a people blessed by the Bible?” To be sure, Los­urdo does not be­lieve that the Holo­caust was fab­ric­ated of whole cloth. He does, however, re­gard such a view as un­der­stand­able giv­en the per­vas­ive real­ity of me­dia dis­tor­tion. Cer­tainly, a de­gree of skep­ti­cism is war­ran­ted when it comes to de­vel­op­ing stor­ies where the facts aren’t yet known. Pseudo-crit­ic­al ques­tions such as “cui bono?” or “who be­ne­fits?” can lead to the wack­i­est de­clar­a­tions that such and such must be a “false flag” by con­spir­acists both Left and Right. Zion­ists of­ten brush aside video evid­ence of Is­raeli sol­diers mis­treat­ing Ar­abs by say­ing they’re all just act­ors em­ployed by “Pal­i­wood.”

One need only look at the 2008 tome Stal­in: The His­tory and Cri­tique of a Black Le­gend for an ex­ample of how Los­urdo op­er­ates in ex­on­er­at­ing the fallen her­oes of state so­cial­ism. It swiftly be­comes ap­par­ent from read­ing ex­tracts trans­lated in­to Eng­lish that he is little more than an Itali­an ver­sion of Grover Furr. Al­though Los­urdo’s sub­jects of in­quiry vary a bit more than those of his Amer­ic­an coun­ter­part, the two men an­nounced their mu­tu­al ad­mir­a­tion in 2013 through an ex­change of let­ters com­mend­ing each oth­er’s work. Furr was im­pressed by his col­league’s de­fense of the 1939 Mo­lotov-Rib­ben­trop pact, while Los­urdo found him­self per­suaded by Furr’s ar­gu­ments about “peri­od­ic Rus­si­an fam­ines.” When the Itali­an edi­tion of Khrushchev Lied came out, Los­urdo vo­lun­teered to write the pre­face. Like Furr, Los­urdo blames Stal­in’s over­whelm­ingly bad repu­ta­tion in the West first of all on ma­li­cious ru­mors spread by Khrushchev at the ⅩⅩth Party Con­gress of the CPSU. Sid­ing with Mao in dis­ap­prov­al, Los­urdo re­proaches Stal­in’s suc­cessor for “de­mon­iz­ing those who pre­ceded him in hold­ing power.” Yet the un­in­ten­ded irony of the line that im­me­di­ately fol­lows can­not be lost on any­one fa­mil­i­ar with the ju­di­cial trav­esties that oc­curred dur­ing the Great Purges: “On this basis, a truly grot­esque tri­al [!!] against Stal­in de­vel­ops.” Though he doesn’t both­er try­ing to ex­on­er­ate the Krem­lin high­lander for every in­dis­cre­tion, Los­urdo re­jects the in­cid­ence of mor­tal­ity re­por­ted in West­ern stat­ist­ics over­all as “greatly ex­ag­ger­ated.”

So how should the crimes and mis­deeds of past re­volu­tion­ar­ies be dealt with, then? “Deng Xiaop­ing un­der­stood how to push along change without im­it­at­ing Khrushchev’s mod­el of desta­lin­iz­a­tion,” sug­gests Los­urdo. “The enorm­ous his­tor­ic­al con­tri­bu­tions Mao made… are not to be for­got­ten.” Many who had been sup­port­ive of the PRC un­der Mao re­garded the coun­try’s re­in­tro­duc­tion of mar­ket re­la­tions as a be­tray­al of the 1949 re­volu­tion, but Los­urdo ap­plauds Deng’s re­forms for their prag­mat­ism. Warn­ing that “to speak of a res­tor­a­tion of cap­it­al­ism in China would be view­ing the prob­lem too su­per­fi­cially,” he ac­know­ledges that the move away from the hard Maoist line was im­port­ant. At the same time, however, it was im­per­at­ive not to lower Mao’s prestige in the eyes of the people. “Her­oes are ne­ces­sary for the trans­ition from ex­cep­tion­al con­di­tions to nor­malcy,” as­serts Los­urdo, so the fond memor­ies of the Great Helms­man must be up­held even while dis­mant­ling his polit­ic­al agenda. It could be ar­gued, of course, that Khrushchev be­trayed his pre­de­cessor only in word while re­main­ing loy­al to him in deed, where­as Deng re­mained loy­al to his pre­de­cessor only in word while be­tray­ing him in deed. Nev­er­the­less, Los­urdo re­gards post-Maoist China as faith­ful enough to its ori­gin­al goals to still be “the cen­ter of the struggle of co­lo­ni­al and former co­lo­ni­al peoples.” Chinese of­fi­cials were thus fully jus­ti­fied in gun­ning down stu­dents at Tien­an­men Square in 1989, as Los­urdo fig­ures they were US State De­part­ment em­ploy­ees any­way.

Re­sponses to Los­urdo’s ef­fort to ab­solve Stal­in have been less than fa­vor­able on the whole. Back in 2014 the tankie theo­lo­gian Ro­land “fuck­ing” Bo­er de­scribed it as a “well-reasoned and elab­or­ately re­searched book,” but out­side the Marx­ist-Len­in­ist party press few seem to have ap­pre­ci­ated it. The Itali­an Trot­sky­ist Ant­o­nio Mo­scato pub­lished a scath­ing po­lem­ic in 2011 against the “ob­ses­sions” of Los­urdo. Mo­scato, a spe­cial­ist in So­viet his­tory, took par­tic­u­lar aim at his men­dacious meth­od of deal­ing with facts (which he else­where calls “the com­par­at­ive ap­proach”). Un­cov­er­ing nu­mer­ous ana­chron­isms in Los­urdo’s timeline, Mo­scato then goes on to con­front his blatant mis­char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion of Trot­sky’s stance on Rus­sia. Es­pe­cially force­ful is his vin­dic­a­tion of charges of an­ti­semit­ism leveled against Stal­in, which seem all the more per­spic­a­cious in ret­ro­spect giv­en that the most egre­gious in­cid­ents of this pre­ju­dice only came after World War II. An even big­ger shit­storm fol­lowed the re­lease of Los­urdo’s book in Span­ish and Por­tuguese. Chris­toph Jünke in Ger­many cri­ti­cized the “neo-Sta­lin­ism” of Los­urdo in a 2000 piece pub­lished by the Rosa Lux­em­burg In­sti­tute, mock­ing the “cyn­ic­al count­ing game” [Spiel bis zur zyn­is­chen Erb­sen­zäh­le­rei] of com­par­ing the num­bers killed by Stal­in to the num­bers killed by Roosevelt, Churchill, and oth­ers.

The loom­ing threat of a “red-brown” (i.e, com­mun­ist-fas­cist) al­li­ance over geo­pol­it­ic­al con­flicts is wor­ri­some, to say the least. Los­urdo is right, of course, to point out that Hitler and Stal­in were not twin broth­ers but mor­tal en­emies. However, as Mo­scato coun­ters, this enmity did not pre­vent them from hav­ing a mu­tu­al re­spect for each oth­er’s ac­com­plish­ments. Nor did it keep them from hold­ing a joint vic­tory parade in Brest-Litovsk, to cel­eb­rate their (re)par­ti­tion of Po­land in 1939. Bud­ding fas­cists like Richard Spen­cer, Colin Lid­dell, and Greg John­son are long­time ad­mirers of na­tion­al­ist strong­men like Putin, As­sad, and Gad­dafi — not least for their de­fi­ance of Is­rael and the US, the two coun­tries sup­posedly most re­spons­ible for “glob­al­ism” around the world. Even left­ish pop­u­lists like Hugo Chávez of Venezuela hold great ap­peal for right-wing na­tion­al­ists who still hold onto the aut­ark­ic ideal des­pite the real­ity of the world mar­ket. Kerry Bolton of Counter-Cur­rents thus ex­claimed “Viva Chávez!” back in 2013. As Marx­ists, we must not al­low our le­git­im­ate op­pos­i­tion to US mil­it­ar­ism or the ex­pan­sion of set­tle­ments in Is­rael al­low us to make com­mon cause with re­ac­tion­ar­ies.

Vul­gar anti-im­per­i­al­ism such as Los­urdo’s is far too close to the isol­a­tion­ist rhet­or­ic of eth­non­a­tion­al­ists for com­fort. While this hardly dis­qual­i­fies all his in­tel­lec­tu­al con­tri­bu­tions, it would be equally mis­taken to think that there is no con­nec­tion between the bad polit­ics of Los­urdo and his the­or­et­ic­al out­look. “Char­lat­an­ism in sci­ence and ac­com­mod­a­tion in polit­ics are in­sep­ar­able,” as Marx put it, speak­ing of Proud­hon.


A revolutionary impulse: Russian avant-garde at the MoMA

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Four months back, the Mu­seum of Mod­ern Art opened an ex­hib­it en­titled A Re­volu­tion­ary Im­pulse: Rise of the Rus­si­an Av­ant-Garde. The show re­ceived mostly fa­vor­able write-ups in lib­er­al out­lets like New York Times and New York­er as well as art/cul­ture mags like Stu­dio In­ter­na­tion­al, Seca Art, and He­don­ist. Marx­ist and left­ish pub­lic­a­tions such as World So­cial­ist Web­site (or­gan of the So­cial­ist Equal­ity Party) and Brook­lyn Rail also ran ap­pre­ci­at­ive re­views of the ex­hib­i­tion.

Per­haps my fa­vor­ite crit­ic­al re­flec­tion on the show came from Caesura, an off­shoot from the Platy­pus Af­fil­i­ated So­ci­ety ex­clus­ively fo­cused on art, mu­sic, and lit­er­at­ure. It fea­tured a fairly char­ac­ter­ist­ic but nev­er­the­less poignant ob­ser­va­tion:

Of the stag­ger­ing num­ber of ob­jects on dis­play, most strik­ing was film­maker Dziga Vertov’s 1925 col­lab­or­a­tion with Rod­chen­ko, Kino-Pravda no.21, a pro­pa­ganda film (the title trans­lates to cinema-truth) track­ing the fail­ing health, death and fu­ner­al of Len­in. Black and white graph­ics con­trib­uted by Rod­chen­ko de­pict­ing, without com­ment, the med­ic­al stat­ist­ics of the ail­ing re­volu­tion­ary lead­er cre­ated a palp­able sense of worry as they edge, at an ex­cru­ci­at­ingly slow pace, to­wards the res­ult we all know already: Len­in’s death in 1924. The film showed the massive long-faced pro­ces­sion of mourn­ers at his fu­ner­al, ded­ic­at­ing por­trait shots and name plates to party lead­ers: a hunched over, tear stricken Clara Zetkin, a somber Le­on Trot­sky and Joseph Stal­in stead­fastly look­ing ahead. The lat­ter was ut­terly chilling — a glimpse of a fu­ture yet un­known to the film­makers but known all too well today. Stand­ing, in 2017, in the Amer­ic­an Mu­seum of Mod­ern Art in a mo­ment of ut­ter polit­ic­al con­fu­sion, the tragedy of this mo­ment was cut­ting. Could the mourn­ers have pos­sibly known that they had wit­nessed both the be­gin­ning and the end of a mo­ment of tre­mend­ous his­tor­ic­al po­ten­tial? Did Vertov and Rod­chen­ko real­ize that in their mont­age of party lead­ers it would be Stal­in who would take power? Did they know that, after the crip­pling de­feat of the Ger­man Left the year pri­or, 1924 would mark a clos­ing and not an open­ing of his­tory?

Caesura’s re­view­er fur­ther spec­u­lates that “if the art of the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde has a time­less qual­ity, it is be­cause of its unique his­tor­ic­al ori­gin. Nev­er be­fore or since have artists op­er­ated un­der the thrall of three so­ci­et­ies — crum­bling czar­ist Rus­sia, the dy­nam­ic bour­geois west, and the ad­van­cing specter of so­cial­ism — so dif­fer­ent. It ex­presses all three but be­longs to none.” A sim­il­ar sen­ti­ment is cap­tured by a line in the New York­er: “His­tory is not a con­stant march for­ward; it can stand still for dec­ades and then, as it did in Rus­sia a hun­dred years ago, ex­plode in a flash.” This line it­self merely para­phrases a quip at­trib­uted to Len­in, to the ef­fect that “there are dec­ades where noth­ing hap­pens, but then there are weeks where dec­ades hap­pen.”

I my­self at­ten­ded the ex­hib­it, and was im­pressed by what I saw. Some of the same pieces had ap­peared in spe­cial gal­ler­ies across the city over the last few years, but the sheer wealth of ma­ter­i­al con­cen­trated in one space was breath­tak­ing. Fur­ther­more, the way this ma­ter­i­al was or­gan­ized and form­ally ar­ranged was skill­ful. You can see a pic­ture of me stand­ing next to Lis­sitzky’s “new man of com­mun­ism,” taken from his series for Vic­tory over the Sun. Be­low you can read a fine med­it­a­tion on the show writ­ten by Bloom Correo, a young ul­traleft au­thor who vis­ited NYC just to see it.


Col­lect­ive so­cial know­ledge

Bloom Correo
April 18, 2017
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In timely con­junc­tion with the centen­ni­al of the 1917 Rus­si­an Re­volu­tion, the Mu­seum of Mod­ern Art (MoMA) in New York hos­ted an ex­hib­it titled A Re­volu­tion­ary Im­pulse: The Rise of the Rus­si­an Av­ant-Garde. The ex­hib­it as­sembled an im­press­ive col­lec­tion of dy­nam­ic and mul­ti­fa­ceted works cre­ated dur­ing the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde peri­od in its zenith (1912-1935). Ori­gin­ally brought to­geth­er by Al­fred H. Barr, first pres­id­ent of the MoMA, the col­lec­tion in­cor­por­ates not one art form but many. Sculp­ture, pho­to­graphy, cinema, paint­ing, and graph­ic design are all in­cluded in the ex­hib­it. Film­makers such as the le­gendary Sergei Ei­s­en­stein and Dziga Vertov, paint­ers like Kazi­mir Malevich and El Lis­sitzky, and the pho­to­graph­er Aleksandr Rod­chen­ko are among the many bril­liant artists whose works could be seen at the event.

The ex­hib­it it­self is pre­faced by a short film, a three-minute reel show­ing a fu­ner­al for fallen re­volu­tion­ar­ies as well as scenes of Rus­si­an work­ers tear­ing down tsar­ist icon­o­graphy. The view­er is thus thrust in­to the his­tor­ic­al mo­ment that these artists were cre­at­ing un­der. The jux­ta­pos­i­tion of the sol­emn pro­ces­sion and the glee­ful de­sec­ra­tion demon­strates the con­tra­dict­ory im­pulses op­tim­ism and ex­cite­ment geared to­wards the Re­volu­tion it­self. Though this mo­ment was ground­break­ing, it destabil­ized the en­tire globe and re­quired the sac­ri­fice of many. Yet out of the rubble the yearn­ing for a re­volu­tion­ary fu­ture emerged.

It is from here that the ex­hib­it starts with Pop­ova and Malevich’s early, cu­bist-in­flu­enced works. Both were trend­set­ters in the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde, not­able for pi­on­eer­ing cubo­fu­tur­ism. The style, as the name sug­gests, is a cross of Itali­an fu­tur­ism and Parisi­an cu­bism, two move­ments at the fore­front of European art. Malevich and Pop­ova were not ex­clus­ively in­flu­enced by con­tem­por­ary move­ments out­side of Rus­sia, however; they also drew heav­ily upon Rus­si­an me­di­ev­al art and folk cul­ture.

Most mem­bers of the av­ant-garde in Rus­sia were thus in­ex­tric­ably linked to the in­ter­na­tion­al fu­tur­ist move­ment. Yet their art dis­played a dis­tinctly na­tion­al char­ac­ter. The ex­hib­it uses the cubo­fu­tur­ism of the early Malevich and Pop­ova to where the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde stemmed from in its evol­u­tion. At this early point (1912-1915), the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde was still re­l­at­ively apolit­ic­al in its con­vic­tions, un­like some oth­er art move­ments at the time. In 1916, just as Pop­ova was dis­tan­cing her­self from cubo­fu­tur­ism and rep­res­ent­a­tion­al art, Malevich foun­ded the group Su­premus.

As cubo­fu­tur­ism faded, artist­ic en­deavors amongst the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde grew in­creas­ingly geo­met­ric. Un­der the in­flu­ence of fu­tur­ism su­pre­mat­ism would emerge as new cur­rent in art cre­ated by Kazi­mir Malevich. With this trans­ition, the ex­hib­it takes the view­er in­to a sec­tion fo­cused on this move­ment. Nev­er­the­less, su­pre­mat­ism didn’t ap­pear out of nowhere. It wasn’t a spon­tan­eous cre­ation spun from the mind of a few artists. Traces of su­pre­mat­ism can be found through Malevich’s earli­er pieces, most not­ably Study for Décor of Vic­tory Over the Sun. The paint­ing was made for a fu­tur­ist op­era (Vic­tory Over the Sun), for which Malevich de­signed the sets.

Su­pre­mat­ism’s roots can be traced throughout early Rus­si­an mod­ern­ism, but its sub­sequent de­vel­op­ment can be seen as an ex­per­i­ment to test Malevich’s the­ory of non-ob­ject­ive art. Malevich found that feel­ing has su­per­seded art’s duty to rep­res­ent some sort of ob­ject­ive real­ity. In his book, The Non-Ob­ject­ive World, Malevich fam­ously stated:

By su­pre­mat­ism I mean the su­prem­acy of pure feel­ing in cre­at­ive art. To the su­pre­mat­ist the visu­al phe­nom­ena of the ob­ject­ive world are, in them­selves, mean­ing­less; the sig­ni­fic­ant thing is feel­ing.

in the philo­sophy ex­pounded in The Non-Ob­ject­ive World, Malevich was anti-ma­ter­i­al­ist and anti-util­it­ari­an. Read­ing this text, it’s little won­der why Marx­ists such as Adam Turl re­gard these artists as mere mys­tics. It makes per­fect sense. Look­ing at su­pre­mat­ist works such as Black Square or White Square on White through this lens, the ideal of a “trans­form­a­tion of the zero of form” should seem less tan­tal­iz­ing. But it doesn’t.

Malevich may not have been a polit­ic­al eco­nom­ist, but he and — to an even great­er ex­tent — oth­ers in­volved with the Su­premus group would over­turn the world of the av­ant-garde and bour­geois art, some of them evolving to­ward the much more pop­u­lar con­struct­iv­ism.

El Lis­sitzky saw a great deal in Malevich’s su­pre­mat­ism. Born to a Jew­ish fam­ily in Poch­inok in 1890, Lis­sitzky stud­ied at the Poly­tech­nic School of Darm­stadt in Ger­many as well as the Riga Poly­tech­nic In­sti­tute. After this he moved to Mo­scow, where he swiftly made a name for him­self with­in the fledgling Rus­si­an av­ant-garde. Lis­sitzky helped found the con­struct­iv­ist school of art, along with Tat­lin and Rod­chen­ko, and to­geth­er they took the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde bey­ond the su­pre­mat­ism of Malevich. The town of Vitebsk it­self would be­come some­what of an ex­per­i­ment­ing ground for many of these artists. Con­struct­iv­ist and su­pre­mat­ist art could be found all throughout the town. In the words of Mayakovsky, “the streets our brushes, the squares our palettes”.

It was in this set­ting that Lis­sitzky be­came a lead­ing av­ant-garde fig­ure in the USSR. He de­signed the first flag for the Cent­ral Ex­ec­ut­ive Com­mit­tee of Rus­sia and painted the fam­ous pro­pa­ganda work Beat the White with the Red Wedge. Lis­sitzky is then the only artist in the ex­hib­it the get an en­tire gal­lery ded­ic­ated to him. His Proun (Project For The Af­firm­a­tion of the New) series is ex­hib­ited not only through his paint­ings and litho­graphs, but also through the “mani­festo” he wrote as well as a chil­dren’s book he de­signed, About Two Squares.

The ex­hib­it also goes over oth­er artists between these points, thus avoid­ing the mis­take of a lin­ear present­a­tion from point A to point B to point C (cubo­fu­tur­ism → su­pre­mat­ism → con­struct­iv­ism, more or less). It’s much more el­eg­antly pieced to­geth­er than that. A wide ar­ray of artists is in­cluded along the over­arch­ing path of de­vel­op­ment, which the show oth­er­wise tries to con­vey.

By show­cas­ing the move­ment’s im­pact across every ma­jor me­di­um, the gal­lery of­fers a pic­ture of what it sought to ac­com­plish in the realm of aes­thet­ics along­side the Bolshev­ik party’s am­bi­tions in the realm of polit­ics. While av­ant-garde move­ments ex­is­ted throughout Europe be­fore, dur­ing, and after, and dur­ing World War I, the So­viet av­ant-garde alone was placed at the helm of cul­tur­al in­sti­tu­tions (if only briefly). Artists of all sorts took it upon them­selves to cre­ate a “col­lect­ive so­cial know­ledge” that could guide re­volu­tion­ary work­ers as they em­barked on an un­pre­ced­en­ted world-his­tor­ic­al jour­ney of so­cial trans­form­a­tion.

To il­lus­trate this, the ex­hib­it takes view­ers’ eyes away from the paint­ings lin­ing the halls with a single sculp­ture. An icon­ic pro­pos­al by Vladi­mir Tat­lin for a massive monu­ment to house the Third In­ter­na­tion­al could be seen as an ar­chi­tec­tur­al fantasy jut­ting sky­ward over Pet­ro­grad. Many of the bold­est projects of the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde were prac­tic­ally un­at­tain­able. Yet the un­built as­pir­a­tions of the early RSF­SR re­tain their grip over their pop­u­lar ima­gin­a­tion, even if of­ten over­shad­owed by the built leg­acy left by “ac­tu­ally-ex­ist­ing so­cial­ism.” Sput­nik and the Ber­lin Wall both come to mind whenev­er one thinks of the USSR, along with a long list of proxy wars waged against NATO and the US. It’s no sur­prise.

Re­gard­less, the cul­min­a­tion of the Rus­si­an av­ant-garde’s ef­fort to in­nov­ate a “col­lect­ive so­cial know­ledge” can be seen near the end of the ex­hib­it. Ad­vert­ise­ments, books, and polit­ic­al posters dec­or­ate the walls of this fi­nal sec­tion. It’s al­most as if the cur­at­ors want to sug­gest that the move­ment merely res­ul­ted in banal agit­prop. Wheth­er this was the cul­min­a­tion or simply the last hur­rah of the move­ment is de­bat­able, however. Per­haps the move­ment was putter­ing out any­ways. But as eph­em­er­al as the move­ment was, much of its out­put made a mark on the world.

The great ex­per­i­ments and the­or­ies cre­ated by Rus­si­an av­ant-garde film­makers are es­sen­tial to any un­der­stand­ing of mod­ern cinema. “So­viet mont­age” is of­ten the first thing that’s taught in 101 film classes. Every film schol­ar worth his or her salt knows of Ei­s­en­stein and Vertov. Su­pre­mat­ism and con­struct­iv­ism are also com­monly taught in mod­ern art his­tory classes. If any­thing, this ex­hib­it suc­ceeded in show­ing both the pro­gres­sion of the move­ments dir­ec­tion as well as the vast amount of art forms en­com­passed. On these grounds as well as many oth­ers, A Re­volu­tion­ary Im­pulse is worthy of ad­mir­a­tion and com­mend­a­tion.


Leon Trotsky, “demon” of the revolution

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Com­rades, we love the sun that gives us light, but if the rich and the ag­gressors were to try to mono­pol­ize the sun, we should say: “Let the sun be ex­tin­guished, let dark­ness reign, etern­al night…”

— Le­on Trot­sky (Septem­ber 11, 1918)

То­ва­ри­щи, мы лю­бим солн­це, ко­то­рое да­ет нам жизнь, но если бы бо­га­чи и аг­рес­со­ры по­пы­та­лись за­хва­тить се­бе солн­це, мы бы ска­за­ли: «Пусть солн­це по­гас­нет, пусть во­ца­рит­ся тьма, веч­ная ночь…»

— Лев Троц­кий (11 сен­тяб­ря 1918 г.)

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Dmitrii Volko­gonov, former court his­tor­i­an of Sta­lin­ism turned ra­bid an­ti­com­mun­ist, fam­ously dubbed Trot­sky the “de­mon” of the Oc­to­ber Re­volu­tion. When he com­manded the Red Army, dur­ing the Civil War, this was in­deed the im­age en­emies of the So­viet Uni­on had of him. He would ap­pear in Theodor Ad­orno’s dreams, and Wal­ter Ben­jamin de­voured his auto­bi­o­graphy and His­tory of the Rus­si­an Re­volu­tion. The psy­cho­ana­lyst Helmut Dah­mer, a stu­dent of Ad­orno, has writ­ten on the vari­ous in­tel­lec­tu­al res­on­ances and par­al­lels between Trot­sky’s Left Op­pos­i­tion and Horkheimer’s In­sti­tute of So­cial Re­search. I’ve poin­ted out both the ten­sions and con­nec­tions of Trot­sky with the Itali­an com­mun­ist lead­er Amedeo Bor­diga, if not Trot­sky­ism and Bor­di­gism (which are much fur­ther apart than their re­spect­ive founders).

Some of his works could already be found in a pre­vi­ous post, but here are a few more titles:

  1. Le­on Trot­sky, 1905 (1907)
  2. Le­on Trot­sky, Ter­ror­ism and Com­mun­ism: A Reply to Karl Kaut­sky (1920)
  3. Le­on Trot­sky, Mil­it­ary Writ­ings, 1920-1923
  4. Le­on Trot­sky, Lit­er­at­ure and Re­volu­tion (1923)
  5. Le­on Trot­sky, The Chal­lenge of the Left Op­pos­i­tion: Writ­ings, 1923-1925
  6. Le­on Trot­sky, My Life (1928)
  7. Le­on Trot­sky, The Third In­ter­na­tion­al After Len­in (1928)
  8. Le­on Trot­sky, His­tory of the Rus­si­an Re­volu­tion, Volume 1: The Over­throw of Tsar­ism (1929)
  9. Le­on Trot­sky, His­tory of the Rus­si­an Re­volu­tion, Volume 2: At­tempt at Coun­ter­re­volu­tion (1930)
  10. Le­on Trot­sky, His­tory of the Rus­si­an Re­volu­tion, Volume 3: The Tri­umph of the So­vi­ets (1931)

Here are some bio­graph­ies and mem­oirs by his friends, as well:

  1. Vic­tor Serge and Nat­alia Se­dova, Life and Death of Le­on Trot­sky (1946)
  2. Jean van Heijenoort, With Trot­sky in Ex­ile: From Prinkipo to Coyoacán (1978)
  3. Dmitrii Volko­gonov, Trot­sky: The Etern­al Re­volu­tion­ary (1992)
  4. Ian D. Thatch­er, Trot­sky (2002)
  5. Joshua Ruben­stein, Le­on Trot­sky: A Re­volu­tion­ary’s Life (2011)

More be­low.

 

Dialectic wants YOU

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After Len­in, Trot­sky was per­haps the one re­volu­tion­ary best able to grasp the fraught dia­lect­ic­al unity of the­ory and prac­tice in his time. “Life has beaten ra­tion­al­ism out of me and taught me the in­ner work­ings of dia­lectic,” he re­called in My Life. Of course, in say­ing this Trot­sky was in no way es­chew­ing ra­tion­al ar­gu­ments or es­pous­ing ir­ra­tion­al­ism. Rather, “ra­tion­al­ism” for him meant the idea that all we have to do is ap­peal to in­di­vidu­als’ ra­tion­al self-in­terest in or­der to bring about so­cial­ism. Fol­low­ing Hegel’s philo­sophy of his­tory in this re­spect, Trot­sky be­lieved that reas­on mani­fes­ted it­self “be­hind the backs” of in­di­vidu­al agents who were in the mean­time busy pur­su­ing private, ir­ra­tion­al ends. “You may not be in­ter­ested in the dia­lectic,” he once re­portedly snapped at James Burnham. “But the dia­lectic is in­ter­ested in you.”

Georg Lukács wrote in his 1967 pre­face to the re­is­sue of His­tory and Class Con­scious­ness that he “al­ways re­jec­ted” Trot­sky­ite po­s­i­tions. Sev­er­al years later he told Perry An­der­son that he dis­liked Trot­sky im­me­di­ately upon their meet­ing in 1920, strik­ing him as a “pos­eur.” If one goes back to the ori­gin­al ver­sion of Lukács’ es­say “What is Or­tho­dox Marx­ism?” pub­lished in 1919, one reads: “As truly or­tho­dox, dia­lect­ic­al Marx­ists, Len­in and Trot­sky paid little at­ten­tion to the so-called ‘facts’… Len­in and Trot­sky un­der­stood the true real­ity, the ne­ces­sary ma­ter­i­al­iz­a­tion of the world re­volu­tion; it was to this real­ity, not to the ‘facts,’ that they ad­jus­ted their ac­tions. It was they who were vin­dic­ated by real­ity, and not the apostles of Real­politik… sway­ing to and fro like reeds in the wind.”

“What does this ter­rible word ‘dia­lectics’ mean?” Trot­sky rhet­or­ic­ally asked in 1940. Re­spond­ing to Hook, East­man, and oth­er Amer­ic­an skep­tic­al of Marx’s dia­lect­ic­al meth­od, he answered: “Dia­lectics means to con­sider things in their de­vel­op­ment, not in their stat­ic situ­ation.” He at­trib­uted this fail­ing to Anglo-Sax­on habits of thought, which had be­come en­am­ored of Wil­li­am James and John Dewey. “Prag­mat­ism, a mix­ture of ra­tion­al­ism and em­pir­i­cism, be­came the na­tion­al philo­sophy of the United States.” Be­cause it re­fused to grapple with real so­cial ant­ag­on­isms, this philo­sophy was “least of all use­ful suited to un­der­stand re­volu­tion­ary crises.” (Com­pare Trot­sky’s scattered cri­ti­cisms of the prag­mat­ists with Max Horkheimer’s more thor­oughgo­ing cri­tique in The Ec­lipse of Reas­on).

Lukács af­firmed in the up­dated 1923 ver­sion of “What is Or­tho­dox Marx­ism?” that “ma­ter­i­al­ist dia­lectic is re­volu­tion­ary dia­lectic,” and goes on to state that “the is­sue turns on the ques­tion of the­ory and prac­tice. And this not merely in the sense giv­en it by Marx when he says in his first cri­tique of Hegel that ‘the­ory be­comes a ma­ter­i­al force when it grips the masses.’ Even more to the point is the need to dis­cov­er those fea­tures and defin­i­tions both of the the­ory and ways of grip­ping the masses which con­vert the the­ory, the dia­lect­ic­al meth­od, in­to a vehicle of re­volu­tion.” The crux of the mat­ter was thus class con­scious­ness, or how to unite re­volu­tion­ary the­ory with pro­let­ari­an prac­tice in seiz­ing the pro­pi­tious mo­ment. For Trot­sky, it was posed as fol­lows:

Marx­ism con­siders it­self the con­scious ex­pres­sion of un­con­scious his­tor­ic­al pro­cesses. But these “un­con­scious” pro­cesses, in the his­torico-philo­soph­ic­al sense of the term — not the psy­cho­lo­gic­al — co­in­cide with its con­scious ex­pres­sion only at its highest point, when the masses, by sheer ele­ment­al pres­sure, break through the so­cial routine and give vic­tori­ous ex­pres­sion to the deep­est needs of his­tor­ic­al de­vel­op­ment. And at such mo­ments the highest the­or­et­ic­al con­scious­ness of the epoch merges with the im­me­di­ate ac­tion of those op­pressed masses, who are farthest away from the­ory. The cre­at­ive uni­on of the con­scious with the un­con­scious is what one usu­ally calls “in­spir­a­tion.” Re­volu­tion is the in­spired frenzy of his­tory.

In Trot­sky’s view dia­lectics formed the “spring” of Marx­ist sci­ence, strong but flex­ible. “Dia­lect­ic­al thought is like a spring,” he ana­lo­gized in 1923. “Springs are made from tempered steel.” Re­flect­ing on his self-edu­ca­tion in Marxi­an dia­lectics, Trot­sky con­fessed that he “did not ab­sorb his­tor­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism at once, dog­mat­ic­ally.” He con­tin­ued to state that “the dia­lectic meth­od re­vealed it­self to me for the first time not as ab­stract defin­i­tions but as a liv­ing spring which I’d found in the his­tor­ic­al pro­cess as I tried to un­der­stand it.” Against cer­tain of his dis­ciples who ex­pressed re­ser­va­tions about this meth­od of thought, he wrote “it is ab­so­lutely ne­ces­sary to ex­plain why Amer­ic­an ‘rad­ic­al’ in­tel­lec­tu­als ac­cept Marx­ism without the dia­lectic (a clock without a spring).” Like any Marx­ist, Trot­sky sought the an­swer to this in so­cial con­di­tions:

The secret is simple. In no oth­er coun­try has there been such re­jec­tion of class struggle as the land of “un­lim­ited op­por­tun­ity.” Deni­al of so­cial con­tra­dic­tions as the mov­ing force of de­vel­op­ment led to the deni­al of the dia­lectic as the lo­gic of con­tra­dic­tions in the do­main of the­or­et­ic­al thought. Just as in the sphere of polit­ics it was thought pos­sible every­body could be con­vinced of the cor­rect­ness of a “just” pro­gram by means of clev­er syl­lo­gisms and so­ci­ety could be re­con­struc­ted through “ra­tion­al” meas­ures, so in the sphere of the­ory it was ac­cep­ted as proved that Ar­is­toteli­an lo­gic, lowered to the level of “com­mon sense,” was suf­fi­cient for the solu­tion of all ques­tions.

To see just how de­cis­ive this meth­od­o­logy was in in­form­ing Trot­sky’s re­volu­tion­ary out­look, we must ex­am­ine an­oth­er is­sue, one which he did not ex­pli­citly them­at­ize: re­ific­a­tion.

 

Reification and revolution

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Karl Korsch did not trust Trot­sky when the Bolshev­ik Re­volu­tion first broke out. By the mid-1920s, however, after his con­ver­sion to Len­in­ism — short-lived though this would prove to be — Korsch had come to fa­vor Bron­shtein’s po­s­i­tion with­in the Comin­tern over that of Zinoviev. His com­rade with­in the Itali­an party, Bor­diga, thus wrote to him in 1926: “You, who used to be highly sus­pi­cious of Trot­sky, have im­me­di­ately sub­scribed to the pro­gram of un­con­di­tion­al solid­ar­ity with the Rus­si­an op­pos­i­tion, bet­ting on Trot­sky rather than on Zinoviev (a pref­er­ence I share).” Sub­sequently Korsch would dis­avow Trot­sky and Len­in­ism tout court as the dec­ade drew to a close, as Trot­sky in turn wrote in 1929 that “Korschist tend­en­cies must be mer­ci­lessly con­demned.” Even if it did not last long, however, their con­flu­ence dur­ing this peri­od is sig­ni­fic­ant.

Lukács’ ap­pre­ci­ation of Trot­sky around this time ran even deep­er, des­pite his later re­cant­a­tions: “[Op­por­tun­ists] re­ject as im­possible the emer­gence of any­thing that is rad­ic­ally new of which we can have no ‘ex­per­i­ence’. It was Trot­sky in his po­lem­ics against Kaut­sky who brought out this dis­tinc­tion most clearly, al­though it had been touched upon in the de­bates on the war: ‘For the fun­da­ment­al Bolshev­ist pre­ju­dice con­sists pre­cisely in the idea that one can only learn to ride when one is sit­ting firmly on a horse’.” In the foot­note ap­pen­ded to this state­ment, Lukács went a step fur­ther. Trot­sky’s line of ar­gu­ment in Ter­ror­ism and Com­mun­ism ap­prox­im­ated Hegel’s epi­stem­o­lo­gic­al ar­gu­ment, where­as Kaut­sky’s ar­gu­ment was ef­fect­ively ana­log­ous to the ag­nost­ic at­ti­tude of Kant:

I hold it to be no mere co­in­cid­ence that Trot­sky’s po­lem­ic against Kaut­sky in the sphere of polit­ics should have re­peated the es­sen­tial ar­gu­ment ad­duced by Hegel in his at­tack on Kant’s the­ory of know­ledge (there is of course no philo­lo­gic­al con­nec­tion). Kaut­sky, in­cid­ent­ally, later claimed that the laws of cap­it­al­ism were un­con­di­tion­ally val­id for the fu­ture [i.e., like nat­ur­al laws], even though it was not pos­sible to at­tain to a con­crete know­ledge of the ac­tu­al trends.

Gen­er­ally speak­ing, this is con­son­ant with Lukács’ ar­gu­ment throughout His­tory and Class Con­scious­ness that Kaut­sky had suc­cumbed to the re­ific­a­tion of so­cial re­la­tions that took place un­der cap­it­al­ism, sta­bil­iz­ing and pet­ri­fy­ing that which is his­tor­ic­ally vari­able and flu­id. What was it in Trot­sky’s ar­gu­ment against Kaut­sky that so re­minded Lukács of Hegel’s ar­gu­ment against Kant? “The the­or­et­ic­al apostasy of Kaut­sky lies just in this point,” Trot­sky wrote in Ter­ror­ism and Com­mun­ism. “Hav­ing re­cog­nized the prin­ciple of demo­cracy as ab­so­lute and etern­al, he has stepped back from ma­ter­i­al­ist dia­lectics to nat­ur­al law.” (No won­der Bor­diga was so fond of this book by Trot­sky, we may note, as he like­wise re­fused to el­ev­ate demo­cracy to a time­less ideal stand­ing above class re­la­tions, “the demo­crat­ic prin­ciple in its ap­plic­a­tion to the bour­geois state, which claims to em­brace all classes.”)

Trot­sky, like Len­in and En­gels and even oc­ca­sion­ally Marx him­self, did oc­ca­sion­ally seek to vin­dic­ate dia­lect­ic­al ma­ter­i­al­ism as a meth­od ap­plic­able to so­cial and nat­ur­al sci­ence in equal meas­ure. Yet this was just as of­ten not the case, as these thinkers re­jec­ted the no­tion that so­cial dy­nam­ics be­haved in a man­ner as con­stant as nat­ur­al law. It has be­come very com­mon among young ad­epts of more soph­ist­ic­ated read­ings of Cap­it­al that Marx did not pro­pose a new polit­ic­al eco­nomy in place of the old one, but rather a cri­tique of polit­ic­al eco­nomy. Al­legedly, this was a sub­tlety lost on sub­sequent gen­er­a­tions of Marx­ists, who sought to es­tab­lish Marx­ism as a pos­it­ive sci­ence cap­able of ex­plain­ing and pre­dict­ing every phe­nomen­on. However, this ca­ri­ca­ture does not hold up when one con­siders pas­sages like the fol­low­ing from Trot­sky:

Marx­ist polit­ic­al eco­nomy is an in­con­test­able sci­ence; but it is not a sci­ence of how to man­age a busi­ness, or how to com­pete on the mar­ket, or how to build trusts. It is the sci­ence of how in a cer­tain epoch cer­tain eco­nom­ic re­la­tions (cap­it­al­ist) took shape, and what con­di­tions these re­la­tions in­tern­ally, and con­sti­tutes their law­ful­ness. Eco­nom­ic laws es­tab­lished by Marx are not etern­al truths but char­ac­ter­ist­ic only of a spe­cif­ic epoch of man­kind’s eco­nom­ic de­vel­op­ment; and, in any case, they are not etern­al prin­ciples as is rep­res­en­ted by the bour­geois Manchester school, ac­cord­ing to which private own­er­ship of the means of pro­duc­tion, buy­ing and selling, com­pet­i­tion, and the rest are etern­al prin­ciples of eco­nomy, de­riv­ing from hu­man nature (about which, however, there is ab­so­lutely noth­ing etern­al).

In his 1937 in­tro­duc­tion to the quint­es­sen­tial works of Karl Marx, Trot­sky re­it­er­ated this point, re­cog­niz­ing that it was ana­chron­ist­ic to speak of “polit­ic­al eco­nomy” in pre­cap­it­al­ist epochs. Polit­ic­al-eco­nom­ic cat­egor­ies could only be ret­ro­act­ively ap­plied to such so­ci­et­ies, since polit­ic­al eco­nomy it­self was an ar­ti­fact of bour­geois mod­ern­ity:

It was not Marx’s aim to dis­cov­er the “etern­al laws” of eco­nomy. He denied the ex­ist­ence of such laws. The his­tory of the de­vel­op­ment of hu­man so­ci­ety is the his­tory of the suc­ces­sion of vari­ous sys­tems of eco­nomy, each op­er­at­ing in ac­cord­ance with its own laws. The trans­ition from one sys­tem to an­oth­er was al­ways de­term­ined by the growth of the pro­duct­ive forces, i.e., of tech­nique and the or­gan­iz­a­tion of labor. Up to a cer­tain point, so­cial changes are quant­it­at­ive in char­ac­ter and do not al­ter the found­a­tions of so­ci­ety, i.e., the pre­val­ent forms of prop­erty. But a point is reached when the ma­tured pro­duct­ive forces can no longer con­tain them­selves with­in the old forms of prop­erty; then fol­lows a rad­ic­al change in the so­cial or­der, ac­com­pan­ied by shocks. The prim­it­ive com­mune was either su­per­seded or sup­ple­men­ted by slavery; slavery was suc­ceeded by serf­dom with its feud­al su­per­struc­ture; the com­mer­cial de­vel­op­ment of cit­ies brought Europe in the six­teenth cen­tury to the cap­it­al­ist or­der, which thereupon passed through sev­er­al stages. In his Cap­it­al Marx does not study eco­nomy in gen­er­al, but cap­it­al­ist eco­nomy, which has its own spe­cif­ic laws. Only in passing does he refer to oth­er eco­nom­ic sys­tems, to elu­cid­ate the char­ac­ter­ist­ics of cap­it­al­ism.

The self-suf­fi­cient eco­nomy of the prim­it­ive peas­ant fam­ily has no need of a “polit­ic­al eco­nomy,” for it is dom­in­ated on the one hand by the forces of nature and on the oth­er by the forces of tra­di­tion. The self-con­tained nat­ur­al eco­nomy of the Greeks or the Ro­mans, foun­ded on slave labor, was ruled by the will of the slave-own­er, whose “plan” in turn was dir­ectly de­term­ined by the laws of nature and routine. The same might also be said about the me­di­ev­al es­tate with its peas­ant serfs. In all these in­stances eco­nom­ic re­la­tions were clear and trans­par­ent in their prim­it­ive crudity. But the case of con­tem­por­ary so­ci­ety is al­to­geth­er dif­fer­ent. It des­troyed the old self-con­tained con­nec­tions and the in­her­ited modes of labor. The new eco­nom­ic re­la­tions have linked cit­ies and vil­lages, provinces and na­tions. Di­vi­sion of labor has en­com­passed the plan­et. Hav­ing shattered tra­di­tion and routine, these bonds have not com­posed them­selves ac­cord­ing to some def­in­ite plan, but rather apart from hu­man con­scious­ness and foresight. The in­ter­de­pend­ence of men, groups, classes, na­tions, which fol­lows from di­vi­sion of labor, is not dir­ec­ted by any­one. People work for each oth­er without know­ing each oth­er, without in­quir­ing about one an­oth­er’s needs, in the hope, and even with the as­sur­ance, that their re­la­tions will some­how reg­u­late them­selves. And by and large they do, or rather, were wont to.

So much for the al­leged vul­gar­ity of “tra­di­tion­al Marx­ism” as a whole. One might take is­sue with Trot­sky’s off­hand re­mark about com­mer­cial­iz­a­tion lead­ing straight­away, on its own, to cap­it­al­ist so­cial re­la­tions, but this is a minor point quickly glossed over.



Don’t bother reading Settlers

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Open­ing tirade

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J. Sakai’s 1983 screed Set­tlers: The Myth­o­logy of the White Pro­let­ari­at has been mak­ing the rounds again lately. Pre­sum­ably be­cause it of­fers a readymade ex­plan­a­tion for why the so-called “white work­ing class” voted for Trump en bloc, a premise which is it­self de­bat­able. Rhizzo­ne.net, an on­line mes­sage board where shit-tier Maoist Third Worldists and oth­er ran­dom nerds can meet and mingle, spear­headed the ini­ti­at­ive to re­launch Read­Set­tlers.org amidst the 2016 US Pres­id­en­tial elec­tion. You can fol­low the #read­set­tlers hasht­ag on Twit­ter, and there’s even been a tumblr ded­ic­ated to the in­junc­tion.

Un­for­tu­nately, the “ana­lys­is” offered in Set­tlers is tenden­tious garbage. Few Marx­ists have had the pa­tience, however, to read through the book in or­der to of­fer a point-by-point re­but­tal. This isn’t so much due to its style, which fam­ously flouts aca­dem­ic con­ven­tions and es­chews ac­cep­ted dis­curs­ive norms. I’m all for shit­ting on MLA writ­ing stand­ards, to say noth­ing of the stil­ted jar­gon of ad­juncts and pro­fess­ors. But if you’re go­ing to make de­tailed stat­ist­ic­al claims about the per­cent­age of white col­on­ists in­volved in vari­ous lines of work dur­ing the sev­en­teenth cen­tury, I ex­pect a foot­note ex­plain­ing the meth­od­o­logy used (how data was col­lec­ted and sor­ted, what “class” means in this con­text, etc.).

Of the vari­ous at­tempts to of­fer a Marx­ist reply to some of the out­rageous claims Sakai makes, Doug En­aa Greene’s “Race and Class in the United States: J. Sakai and the Polit­ics of Re­volu­tion” is doubt­less the most ex­haust­ive. He ex­plains that “Sakai denies the ex­ist­ence of a mul­tina­tion­al pro­let­ari­at, since white work­ers are sup­posedly just op­press­ors… What Sakai ad­vances is just ut­ter false­hood.” Greene ac­know­ledges that

Marx­ists need a ma­ter­i­al­ist his­tory and ana­lys­is of US so­ci­ety, its ex­ist­ing class re­la­tions, the role of race and na­tion­al op­pres­sion and to identi­fy those agents of re­volu­tion­ary change. But Sakai’s Set­tlers does not provide that un­der­stand­ing. The work is marred by gross meth­od­o­lo­gic­al and fac­tu­al er­rors and the polit­ic­al con­clu­sion leads one to see white work­ers in the US as one hope­lessly “re­ac­tion­ary mass.” For Sakai, there is no strategy for unity; rather di­vi­sion of the work­ing class is seen as a per­man­ent fea­ture.

Like­wise, Tyler Mcreary con­cludes in his re­view of the 1989 reed­i­tion of Set­tlers con­cludes that “Sakai em­ploys es­sen­tial­ist con­cepts throughout the text, un­will­ing to en­gage ideo­lo­gic­al com­plex­ity and con­tra­dic­tions… Des­pite Set­tlers’ vi­tal­ity, the crit­ic­al in­quiry it at­tempts is hobbled by cer­tain crit­ic­al lapses and overly strict con­cep­tu­al cat­egor­ies.” Se­basti­an Lamb sim­il­arly main­tains that “the ideas of Set­tlers are so flawed that they are ac­tu­ally an obstacle to de­vel­op­ing the kind of anti-ra­cist work­ing-class polit­ics needed today. Yet be­cause its ideas have some in­flu­ence among an­ti­cap­it­al­ists, they de­serve to be chal­lenged.”

Even many oth­er Maoists largely find the ar­gu­ments Sakai makes un­con­vin­cing. Not all, of course. Jonath­an Mouwa­fad-Paul in his “meta-re­view” de­fends Set­tlers from the barbs dir­ec­ted at it by Lamb and Mcreary, and Mat­thijs Krul — who is quite open about his “con­sid­er­able sym­pathy and agree­ment with the Third-Worldist view­point” — nods ap­prov­ingly in Sakai’s dir­ec­tion on sev­er­al oc­ca­sions. Kev­in “Rashid” John­son of the New Afrik­an Black Pan­ther Party of­fers a scath­ing cri­tique of Set­tlers, and by ex­ten­sion the en­tire school of thought in­spired by him, in a long post ded­ic­ated to the ques­tion of race and class:

Cent­ral to the cre­ation of the Maoist In­ter­na­tion­al Move­ment/“vul­gar labor ar­is­to­cracy” line was J. Sakai’s Set­tlers, an anti-Marx­ist ana­lys­is of race (which re­places race for class as the prin­cip­al form of op­pres­sion in America). Set­tlers cites epis­odes from the ex­tens­ive his­tory of “white” ra­cial op­pres­sion of people of col­or in Amer­ica and the re­l­at­ive priv­ileged status that “whites” at all so­cial-eco­nom­ic levels have en­joyed at the ex­pense of peoples of col­or, and which has al­lowed even work­ing class and poor whites to be­tray the in­terests of their coun­ter­parts of col­or. The main theme of Set­tlers is “white” ra­cial treach­ery, be­tray­al, bru­tal­ity and priv­ilege that claims to know no class dis­tinc­tion. The con­clu­sion be­ing that these factors com­bine to cre­ate a uni­form class of “white­ness” that has no pro­let­ari­an sec­tor. We con­trast Sakai’s nar­row work with the broad­er and ex­haust­ive works of Marx­ist pro­let­ari­an in­tel­lec­tu­al Theodore Al­len, par­tic­u­larly his two volume study The In­ven­tion of the White Race. Ap­ply­ing a polit­ic­al eco­nom­ic ana­lys­is he demon­strates that race and ra­cism were/are cre­ated and ma­nip­u­lated by the rul­ing class as a tool to di­vide the work­ing class against it­self, only to the be­ne­fit of the rul­ing class.

Sakai’s work is geared more to the in­cite­ment of vis­cer­al re­ac­tions to the hor­rors of the prac­tice of white su­prem­acy and driv­ing home the sub­ject­ive theme of in­her­ent treach­er­ous­ness of “whites.” This to the end of in­cit­ing people of col­or to look upon all “whites” as a col­lect­ive op­press­or class and to erase the class lines that ex­ist between and sep­ar­ate rul­ing class and work­ing class “whites.” Sakai’s non-ma­ter­i­al­ist study read­ily ap­peals to the af­fect­ive mind. Al­len’s work by con­trast ma­ter­i­ally ex­am­ines the meth­ods and his­tory be­hind the rul­ing class’s schemes that cre­ated race and ra­cism, and in­cited work­ers and oth­er strata against each oth­er in the name of ra­cial su­prem­acy and counter-ra­cial nar­rat­ives which have per­petu­ated on­go­ing ra­cial ali­en­a­tion, com­pet­i­tion, sub­or­din­a­tion and so on. This has served to sup­press and di­vert the col­lect­ive out­rage of the over­all op­pressed masses in­to chan­nels that have pro­tec­ted and ad­vanced the wealth, power and in­terests of the rul­ing class. Al­len also ex­am­ines how the concept of “white­ness” has been used and serves to blind “whites” to the suf­fer­ings im­posed by “white­ness” on ra­cial­ized “oth­ers” and he fur­ther demon­strates that ul­ti­mately “whites” do not be­ne­fit from ra­cism or the sense of ra­cial priv­ilege and en­ti­tle­ment. Al­len’s work is geared more to the ma­ter­i­al­ist mind that is in­ter­ested in un­der­stand­ing the ori­gins, roots, and pur­pose of race and ra­cism and how to counter its di­vis­ive and of­ten cata­stroph­ic im­pact on op­pressed peoples of all col­ors and es­pe­cially the pro­let­ari­at.

In­cid­ent­ally, Sakai him­self no longer seems to think the cent­ral thes­is of Set­tlers holds with re­spect to the con­tem­por­ary US, a fact which ought to com­plic­ate mat­ters for those who in­voke his au­thor­ity to prove the in­cor­ri­gib­il­ity of the white work­ing class. “Mod­ern Pan-Is­lam­ic fas­cism [is] press­ing home its war on a glob­al bat­tle­field,” wrote Sakai shortly after the 9/11 at­tacks. “The small but grow­ing white fas­cist bands here in the US picked up on this im­me­di­ately; they had polit­ic­al brethren in the Muslim world. Polit­ics is thick­er than blood. ‘Any­one who’s will­ing to drive a plane in­to a build­ing to kill Jews is al­right by me,’ said Billy Rop­er of the Na­tion­al Al­li­ance, the largest white fas­cist group here. Like is drawn to like: not race and not re­li­gion but class polit­ics.”

My open­ing tirade thus draws to a close. Without any fur­ther ado, then, I leave you with Noel Ig­natiev’s brief but in­cis­ive 1985 re­view of Sakai’s Set­tlers. I don’t agree with all that Ig­natiev has writ­ten in the past, but much of it is quite good — in­clud­ing this re­view. And like Sakai he writes in a dir­ect man­ner without pre­tense or con­des­cen­sion.

Re­view of Set­tlers, by J. Sakai

Noel Ig­natiev
Spring 1985
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Ac­cord­ing to J. Sakai’s Set­tlers: The Myth­o­logy of the White Pro­let­ari­at (1983), “the en­tire set­tler eco­nomy was raised up on a found­a­tion of slave labor, slave products, and the slave trade.”

Of course it was, and as Set­tlers points out, the fish­er­man, the for­est­er, the clerk, the cooper and the farm­er were “de­pend­ent” on the sys­tem of slave labor; so was the child who ten­ded a loom thir­teen hours a day in a cot­ton-mill. Not only that, the slave was “de­pend­ent” on the mill work­er and the fish­er­man.

Ever since the di­vi­sion of labor, hu­man be­ings have de­pended on oth­ers for the things they need to live. In mod­ern so­ci­ety all laborers “de­pend” on the ex­ploit­a­tion of oth­ers. To at­tempt to give this tru­ism a pro­founder sig­ni­fic­ance is to em­brace the world view of the bour­geois­ie, which holds that its mode of reg­u­lat­ing the so­cial di­vi­sion of labor through the mar­ket is nat­ur­al.

(As an aside, why lim­it the cat­egory of “set­tler” to those from Europe? People from Africa were im­por­ted to the west­ern hemi­sphere to pro­duce sur­plus-value, which was sub­sequently trans­formed in­to cap­it­al. Were they “set­tlers” too? And what about Mex­ic­ans and In­di­ans already here, and Chinese im­por­ted later? They also pro­duced wealth used to dom­in­ate oth­ers.)

Stand­ard bour­geois eco­nom­ics teaches that a job is prop­erty. Set­tlers shares that view, as well as the out­look of the white work­er who thinks that a ra­cial mono­poly of the “bet­ter” jobs is worth de­fend­ing. Who could be more sub­or­din­ated to cap­it­al, more blinded to pro­let­ari­an class in­terests?

No sec­tor of white so­ci­ety has thus far sep­ar­ated it­self cat­egor­ic­ally from the in­famy. Per­haps none ever will. The priv­ileges of the white skin have done their pois­on­ous work. As many people have poin­ted out, class is not a list­ing of in­di­vidu­als by oc­cu­pa­tion but a pro­cess whereby some people come to see they have com­mon in­terests, and that these in­terests in­clude the build­ing of a new so­ci­ety. Only events will de­term­ine wheth­er any sec­tor of European-Amer­ic­ans will take their stand with the glob­al pro­let­ari­at.

For European-Amer­ic­ans who think that re­volu­tion is ne­ces­sary, what bet­ter use could there be of their time, in­tel­li­gence, and en­ergy than the ef­fort to crack open white so­ci­ety? To do that, they need a the­ory that will point out the fis­sures in it, not deny their ex­ist­ence.


Toussaint Louverture, leader of the Haitian revolution

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Haitian re­volu­tion­ary lead­er and states­man Tous­saint Louver­ture was born 274 years ago today. You can read a num­ber of books, es­says, and art­icles by click­ing on the links be­low.

  1. CLR James, The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the Haitian Revolution (1938)
  2. CLR James, Lectures on The Black Jacobins (1974)
  3. Laurent Dubois, Avengers of the New World: The Story of the Haitian Revolution (2004)
  4. Jeremy D. Popkin, Facing Racial Revolution: Eyewitness Accounts of the Haitian Insurrection (2008)
  5. Susan Buck-Morss, Hegel, Haiti, and Universal History (2009)
  6. Jeremy D. Popkin, A Concise History of the Haitian Revolution (2011)

Fore­most among these, of course, is CLR James’ clas­sic The Black Jac­obins: Tous­saint Louver­ture and the Haitian Re­volu­tion (1938). Against the naïve im­per­at­ive that says “we must not cen­sor works hailed by the sub­al­tern as mas­ter­ful pieces of our his­tory, but in­stead cel­eb­rate them if the sub­al­tern says we should” — which al­most reads like a re­duc­tio ad ab­surdum of stand­point epi­stem­o­logy — we ought rather to up­hold those works which pass crit­ic­al and schol­arly muster. James’ book, though not writ­ten by an aca­dem­ic, stands up bril­liantly to this test.

Some of the oth­ers are also worth check­ing out. In par­tic­u­lar, Susan Buck-Morss’ in­flu­en­tial study of Hegel, Haiti, and Uni­ver­sal His­tory (2009), which caused something of a stir when the first half was pub­lished as an es­say back in 2001. “De­co­lo­ni­al dia­lec­tician” George Cic­car­i­ello-Ma­h­er cri­ti­cized her for fo­cus­ing too much on Tous­saint, at the ex­pense of his com­pat­ri­ot Jean-Jacques Des­salines. Nev­er­the­less, out of these two, I greatly prefer Tous­saint.

James re­peatedly com­pared Tous­saint to Robe­s­pi­erre, and in this ana­logy Des­salines could only be com­pared to Na­po­leon. After selling Tous­saint out to Le­clerc, and dis­pos­ing of rivals such as Charles and Sanité Bélair, Des­salines crowned him­self em­per­or and ruled with an iron fist over the ex-co­lo­ni­al is­land. Marx, as we know, had little pa­tience for would-be New World Na­po­leons like Si­mon Bolivar, so it’s not hard to ima­gine what he would have thought of Des­salines.

But even bey­ond these mono­graphs and his­tor­ies, Tous­saint’s life has in­spired works by great lit­er­ary fig­ures as well. To hon­or and com­mem­or­ate his birth­day, then, I’m also in­clud­ing a poem ded­ic­ated to Tous­saint by the poet Wil­li­am Wordsworth and a short story by the nov­el­ist Ral­ph El­lis­on. En­joy!

To Tous­saint L’Ouver­ture

Wil­liam Wordsworth
The Morning Post
February 4, 1802
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Tous­saint, the most un­happy man of men!
Wheth­er the whist­ling Rus­tic tend his plough
With­in thy hear­ing, or thy head be now
Pil­lowed in some deep dun­geon’s ear­less den; —
O miser­able Chief­tain! where and when
Wilt thou find pa­tience? Yet die not; do thou
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheer­ful brow:
Though fallen thy­self, nev­er to rise again,
Live, and take com­fort. Thou hast left be­hind
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies;
There’s not a breath­ing of the com­mon wind
That will for­get thee; thou hast great al­lies;
Thy friends are ex­ulta­tions, ag­on­ies,
And love, and man’s un­con­quer­able mind.

Mister Toussan

Ralph Ellison
New Masses
Nov. 4, 1941
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Once upon a time
The goose drink wine
Mon­key chew to­bacco
And he spit white lime

— Rhyme used as a pro­logue
to Negro slave stor­ies

“I hope they all gits rot­ten and the worms git in ’em,” the first boy said. “I hopes a big wind storm comes and blows down all the trees,” said the second boy.
……“Me too,” the first boy said. “And when ole Rogan comes out to see what happened I hope a tree falls on his head and kills him.”
……“Now jus look a-yon­der at them birds,” the second boy said. “They eat­ing all they want and when we asked him to let us git some off the ground he had to come call­ing us little nig­guhs and chas­ing us home!”
……“Dog­gon­it,” said the second boy. “I hope them birds got pois­on in they feet!”
……The two small boys, Ri­ley and Buster, sat on the floor of the porch, their bare feet rest­ing upon the cool earth as they stared past the line on the pav­ing where the sun con­sumed the shade, to a yard dir­ectly across the street. The grass in the yard was very green, and a house stood against it, neat and white in the morn­ing sun. A double row of trees stood along­side the house, heavy with cher­ries that showed deep red against the dark green of the leaves and dull dark brown of the branches. The two boys were watch­ing an old man who rocked him­self in a chair as he stared back at them across the street.
……“Just look at him,” said Buster. “Ole Rogan’s so scared we gonna git some a his ole cher­ries he ain’t even got sense enough to go in outa the sun!”
……“Well, them birds is git­ting their’n,” said Ri­ley.
……“They mock­ing­birds.”
……“I don’t care what kinda birds they is, they sho in them trees.”
……“Yeah, ole Rogan don’t see them. Man, I tell you white folks ain’t got no sense.”
……They were si­lent now, watch­ing the dart­ing flight of the birds in­to the trees. Be­hind them they could hear the clat­ter of a sew­ing ma­chine: Ri­ley’s moth­er was sew­ing for the white folks. It was quiet, and as the wo­man worked, her voice rose above the whirr­ing ma­chine in song.
……“Your mama sho can sing, man,” said Buster.
……“She sings in the choir,” said Ri­ley, “and she sings all the leads in church.”
……“Shucks, I know it,” said Buster. “You try­in’ to brag?”
……As they listened they heard the voice rise clear and li­quid to float upon the morn­ing air:

I got wings, you got wings,
All God’s chil­lun got a wings
When I git to heav­en gonna put on my wings
Gonna shout all ovah God’s heab’n.
Heab’n, heab’n
Ever­body talkin’ ’bout heab’n ain’t go­ing there
Heab’n, heab’n, Ah’m gonna fly all ovah God’s heab’n…

She sang as though the words pos­sessed a deep and throb­bing mean­ing for her, and the boys stared blankly at the earth, feel­ing the somber, mys­ter­i­ous calm of church. The street was quiet, and even old Rogan had stopped rock­ing to listen. Fi­nally the voice trailed off to a hum and be­came lost in the clat­ter of the busy ma­chine.
……“Wish I could sing like that,” said Buster.
……Ri­ley was si­lent, look­ing down to the end of the porch where the sun had eaten a bright square in­to the shade, fix­ing a flit­ting but­ter­fly in its bril­liance.
……“What would you do if you had wings?” he said.
……“Shucks, I’d out­fly an eagle. I wouldn’t stop fly­ing till I was a mil­lion, bil­lion, tril­lion, zil­lion miles away from this ole town.”
……“Where’d you go, man?”
……“Up north, maybe to Chica­go.”
……“Man, if I had wings I wouldn’t nev­er settle down.”
……“Me neither. Hecks, with wings you could go any­where, even up to the sun if it wasn’t too hot…”
……“…I’d go to New York…”
……“Even around the stars…”
……“Or Dee-troit, Michigan…”
……“Hell, you could git some cheese off the moon and some milk from the Milky Way…”
……“Or any­where else colored is free…”
……“I bet I’d loop-the-loop…”
……“And para­chute…”
……“I’d land in Africa and git me some dia­monds…”
……“Yeah, and them can­ni­bals would eat the hell outa you, too,” said Ri­ley.
……“The heck they would, not as fast as I’d fly away…”
……“Man, they’d catch you and stick some them long spears in your be­hin’!” said Ri­ley.
……Buster laughed as Ri­ley shook his head gravely: “Boy, you’d look like a black pin­cush­ion when they got through with you,” said Ri­ley.
……“Shucks, man, they couldn’t catch me, them suck­ers is too lazy. The geo­graphy book says they ’bout the most lazy folks in the whole world,” said Buster with dis­gust, “just black and lazy!”
……“Aw naw, they ain’t neither,” ex­ploded Ri­ley.
……“They is too! The geo­graphy book says they is!”
……“Well, my old man says they ain’t!”
……“How come they ain’t then?”
……“…’Cause my old man says that over there they got kings and dia­monds and gold and ivory, and if they got all them things, all of ’em caint be lazy,” said Ri­ley.
……“Ain’t many colored folks over here got them things.”
……“Sho ain’t, man. The white folks won’t let ’em,” said Buster.
……It was good to think that all the Afric­ans were not lazy. He tried to re­mem­ber all he had heard of Africa as he watched a purple pi­geon sail down in­to the street and scratch where a horse had passed. Then, as he re­membered a story his teach­er had told him, he saw a car rolling swiftly up the street and the pi­geon stretch­ing its wings and lift­ing eas­ily in­to the air, skim­ming the top of the car in its slow, rock­ing flight. He watched it rise and dis­ap­pear where the taut tele­phone wires cut the sky above the curb. Buster felt good. Ri­ley scratched his ini­tials in the soft earth with his big toe.
……“Ri­ley, you know all them Africa guys ain’t really that lazy,” he said.
……“I know they ain’t,” said Ri­ley. “I just tole you so.”
……“Yeah, but my teach­er tole me, too. She tole us ’bout one of the Afric­an guys named Tous­san what she said whipped Na­po­leon!”
……Ri­ley stopped scratch­ing in the earth and looked up, his eye rolling in dis­gust:
……“Now how come you have to start ly­ing?”
……“Thass what she said.”
……“Boy, you oughta quit telling them things.”
……“I hope God may kill me.”
……“She said he was a Afric­an?”
……“Cross my heart, man…”
……“Really?”
……“Really, man. She said he come from a place named Hayti.”
……Ri­ley looked hard at Buster and, see­ing the ser­i­ous­ness of the face, felt the ex­cite­ment of a story rise up with­in him.
……“Buster, I’ll bet a fat man you ly­in’. What’d that teach­er say?”
……“Really, man, she said that Tous­san and his men got up on one of them Afric­an moun­tains and shot down them peck­er­wood sol­diers fass as they’d try to come up…”
……“Why good-God-a-mighty!” yelled Ri­ley.
……“Oh boy, they shot ’em down!” chanted Buster.
……“Tell me about it, man!”
……“And they throwed ’em off the moun­tain…”
……“…Goool-leee!…”
……“…And Tous­san drove ’em cross the sand…”
……“…Yeah! And what was they wear­ing, Buster?…”
……“Man, they had on red uni­forms and blue hats all trimmed with gold and they had some swords all shin­ing, what they called sweet blades of Dam­as­cus…”
……“Sweet blades of Dam­as­cus!…”
……“…They really had ’em,” chanted Buster.
……“And what kinda guns?”
……“Big, black can­non!”
……“And where did ole what you call ’im run them guys?…”
……“His name was Tous­san.”
……“Tooz­an! Just like Tar­z­an…”
……“Not Taar-zan, dummy, Toou-zan!”
……“Tous­san! And where’d ole Tous­san run ’em?”
……“Down to the wa­ter, man…”
……“…To the river wa­ter…”
……“…Where some great big ole boats was wait­ing for ’em…”
……“…Go on, Buster!”
……“An’ Tous­san shot in­to them boats…”
……“…He shot in­to ’em…”
……“…shot in­to them boats…”
……“Je­sus!…”
……“…with his great big can­nons…”
……“…Yeah!…”
……“…made a-brass…”
……“…Brass…”
……“…an’ his big black can­non­balls star­ted kil­lin’ them peck­er­woods…”
……“…Lawd, Lawd…”
……“…Boy, till them peck­er­woods hol­lowed, Please, Please, Mis­ter Tous­san, we’ll be good!
……“An’ what’d Tous­san tell ’em, Buster?”
……“Boy, he said in his deep voice, I oughta drown all a you bas­tards.
……“An’ what’d the peck­er­woods say?”
……“They said, Please, Please, Please, Mis­ter Tous­san…”
……“…We’ll be good,” broke in Ri­ley.
……“Thass right, man,” said Buster ex­citedly. He clapped his hands and kicked his heels against the earth, his black face glow­ing in a burst of rhythmic joy.
……“Boy!”
……“And what’d ole Tous­san say then?”
……“He said in his big deep voice: You all peck­er­woods bet­ter be good, ’cause this is sweet Papa Tous­san talk­ing and my nig­guhs is crazy ’bout white meat!
……“Ho, ho, ho!” Ri­ley bent double with laughter. The rhythm still throbbed with­in him and he wanted the story to go on and on…
……“Buster, you know didn’t no teach­er tell you that lie,” he said.
……“Yes, she did, man.”
……“She said there was really a guy like that what called his­self Sweet Papa Tous­san?”
……Ri­ley’s voice was un­be­liev­ing, and there was a wist­ful ex­pres­sion in his eyes that Buster could not un­der­stand. Fi­nally, he dropped his head and grinned.
……“Well,” he said, “I bet thass what ole Tous­san said. You know how grown folks is, they caint tell a story right ’cept­ing real old folks like Granma.”
……“They sho caint,” said Ri­ley. “They don’t know how to put the right stuff to it.”
……Ri­ley stood, his legs spread wide, and stuck his thumbs in the top of his trousers, swag­ger­ing sin­isterly.
……“Come on, watch me do it now, Buster. Now I bet ole Tous­san looked down at them white folks stand­ing just about like this and said in a soft easy voice: Ain’t I done begged you white folks to quit messin’ with me?…”
……“Thass right, quit mess­ing with ’im,” chanted Buster.
……“But naw, you all had to come on any­way…”
……“…Just ’cause they was black…”
……“Thass right,” said Ri­ley. “Then ole Tous­san felt so damn bad and mad the tears came a-trick­ling down…”
……“…He was really mad.”
……“And then, man, he said in his big, bad voice: God­damn you white folks, how come you all caint let us colored alone?”
……“…An’ he was cry­ing…”
……“…An’ Tous­san tole them peck­er­woods: I been beg­gin’ you all to quit both­er­ing us…”
……“…Beg­gin’ on his bended knees! …”
……“Then, man, Tous­san got real mad and snatched off his hat and star­ted stomp­in’ up and down on it and the tears was trick­lin’ down and he said: You all come tel­lin’ me about Na­po­leon…”
……“They was try­in’ to scare ’im, man…”
……“Said: I don’t give a damn about Na­po­leon…”
……“…Wasn’t study­in’ ’bout him…”
……“…Tous­san said: Na­po­leon ain’t noth­ing but a man! Then Tous­san pulled back his shin­ing sword like this, and twirled it at them peck­er­woods’ throats so hard it z-z-z-zinged in the air!”
……“Now keep on, fin­ish it, man,” said Buster. “What’d Tous­san do then?”
……“Then you know what he did, he said: I oughta beat the hell outa you peck­er­woods!
……“Thass right, and he did it too,” said Buster.
……He jumped to his feet and fenced vi­ol­ently with five des­per­ate ima­gin­ary sol­diers, run­ning each through with his ima­gin­ary sword. Buster watched him from the porch, grin­ning.
……“Tous­san musta scared them white folks al­most to death!”
……“Yeah, thass ’bout the way it was,” said Buster. The rhythm was dy­ing now and he sat back upon the porch, breath­ing tiredly.
……“It sho is a good story,” said Ri­ley.
……“Hecks, man, all the stor­ies my teach­er tells us is good. She’s a good ole teach­er — but you know one thing?”
……“Naw, what?”
……“Ain’t none of them stor­ies in the books. Won­der why?”
……“Hell, you know why. Ole Tous­san was too hard on them white folks, thass why.”
……“Oh, he was a hard man!”
……“He was mean…”
……“But a good mean!”
……“Tous­san was clean…”
……“… He was a good, clean mean,” said Ri­ley.
……“Aw, man, he was sooo-preme,” said Buster.
……“Riii­ley!!”
……The boys stopped short in their word play, their mouths wide.
……“Ri­ley, I say!” It was Ri­ley’s moth­er’s voice.
……“Ma’m?”
……“She musta heard us cussin’,” whispered Buster.
……“Shut up, man… What you want, Ma?”
……“I says I want you all to go round the back­yard and play. You keep­ing up too much fuss out there. White folks says we tear up a neigh­bor­hood when we move in it and you all out there jus prov­in’ them out true. Now git on round in the back.”
……“Aw, Ma, we was jus play­ing, Ma…”
……“Boy, I said for you all to go on.”
……“But, Ma…”
……“You hear me, boy!”
……“Yes­sum, we go­ing,” said Ri­ley. “Come on, Buster.”
……Buster fol­lowed slowly be­hind, feel­ing the dew upon his feet as he walked up on the shaded grass.
……“What else did he do, man?” Buster said.—
……“Huh? Rogan?”
……“Hecks, naw! I’m talkin’ ’bout Tous­san.”
……“Dog­gone if I know, man — but I’m gonna ask that teach­er.”
……“He was a fight­in’ son-of-a-gun, wasn’t he, man?”
……“He didn’t stand for no fool­ish­ness,” said Ri­ley re­servedly.
……He thought of oth­er things now, and as he moved along, he slid his feet eas­ily over the short-cut grass, dan­cing as he chanted:

Iron is iron,
And tin is tin,
And that’s the way
The story

“Aw come on, man,” in­ter­rup­ted Buster. “Let’s go play in the al­ley…”
……And that’s the way
……“Maybe we can slip around and get some cher­ries,” Buster went on.
……… the story ends, chanted Ri­ley

 


Society, totality, and history

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Dia­lectics elude straight­for­ward defin­i­tion. No doubt it is easi­er to say what dia­lectics is not, rather than to say what it is. Against Ferdin­and Las­salle, Marx re­marked in a let­ter to En­gels that “Hegel nev­er de­scribed as dia­lectics the sub­sump­tion of vast num­bers of ‘cases’ un­der a gen­er­al prin­ciple,” and there­fore con­cluded that “the dia­lect­ic­al meth­od is wrongly ap­plied.”1 Vladi­mir Len­in like­wise poin­ted out that Geor­gii Plekhan­ov, the founder of Rus­si­an Marx­ism, erred in treat­ing dia­lectics as “the sum-total of ex­amples,” a mis­take from which even En­gels was not fully ex­empt.2

Still less is dia­lectics re­du­cible to an ab­stract for­mula or ste­reo­typed pro­ced­ure of thes­is-an­ti­thes­is-syn­thes­is. James re­garded this series as “a ru­in­ous sim­pli­fic­a­tion” in his 1948 Notes on Dia­lectics,3 while Len­in fol­lowed Hegel in con­sid­er­ing “the ‘tripli­city’ of dia­lectics… [as] its ex­tern­al, su­per­fi­cial side.”4 In sim­il­ar fash­ion, the Frank­furt School the­or­ist Theodor Ad­orno re­called that “Hegel ex­pressed the most cut­ting ob­jec­tions to the claptrap tripli­city of thes­is, an­ti­thes­is, and syn­thes­is as a meth­od­o­lo­gic­al schema.”5 Early in his ca­reer, Len­in up­braided the pop­u­list Nikolai Mikhail­ovsky for his fatu­ous por­tray­al of the ma­ter­i­al­ist dia­lectic as some sort of par­lor trick which “proves” cap­it­al­ism must col­lapse. “Marx’s dia­lect­ic­al meth­od does not con­sist in tri­ads at all,” ex­plained Len­in in 1894, “but pre­cisely in the re­jec­tion of ideal­ism and sub­ject­iv­ism in so­ci­ology.”6

How can this meth­od be re­tained in so­ci­ology, however, while at the same time get­ting rid of its ideal­ist residues? Ob­vi­ously, if the dia­lectic is to be any­thing more than a sub­ject­ive ad­di­tion, an ar­bit­rary “way of think­ing” about the world, its lo­gic has to be dis­covered in the ob­ject (i.e., so­ci­ety) it­self. The ma­ter­i­al­ist in­ver­sion of Hegel’s dia­lectic can only be jus­ti­fied if its con­tours ap­pear at the level of so­cial real­ity. “Dia­lect­ic­al un­der­stand­ing is noth­ing but the con­cep­tu­al form of a real dia­lect­ic­al fact,” wrote Georg Lukács in his 1924 mono­graph Len­in: A Study in the Unity of His Thought.7 Lukács’ con­tem­por­ary, the Bolshev­ik re­volu­tion­ary Le­on Trot­sky, main­tained that the meth­od should not be ap­plied to just any sphere of know­ledge “like an ever-ready mas­ter key,” since “dia­lectics can­not be im­posed upon facts, but must be de­duced from their char­ac­ter and de­vel­op­ment.”8 Re­flect­ing on his con­ver­sion to Marx­ism, Trot­sky wrote that “the dia­lect­ic­al meth­od re­vealed it­self for the first time, not as an ab­stract defin­i­tion, but as a liv­ing spring found in the his­tor­ic­al pro­cess.”9

Trot­sky’s meta­phor of the spring re­curs fre­quently in his art­icles and speeches. “Marx­ism without the dia­lectic is like a clock without a spring,” he later de­clared.10 Wound tightly in­to the shape of a spir­al, the ma­ter­i­al­ist dia­lectic simply mir­rors the dy­nam­ic ten­sion of cap­it­al­ism it­self. “Cycles ex­plain a great deal,” Trot­sky main­tained in 1923, “form­ing through auto­mat­ic pulsa­tion an in­dis­pens­able dia­lect­ic­al spring in the mech­an­ism of cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety.”11 Earli­er in the year he stressed that an ad­equate so­ci­olo­gic­al ac­count must be both strong and flex­ible, since “dia­lect­ic­al thought is like a spring, and springs are made of tempered steel.”12

For such an ac­count to be war­ran­ted, in oth­er words, a dy­nam­ic ten­sion has to op­er­ate throughout the so­cial whole and gov­ern its to­tal­ity. Ad­orno went so far as to con­tend in his in­tro­duct­ory lec­tures on so­ci­ology that “[t]he concept of ‘so­ci­ety’ is, and must be, in­her­ently dia­lect­ic­al.” So­ci­ety sig­ni­fies “a me­di­ated and me­di­at­ing re­la­tion­ship between in­di­vidu­als, and not as a mere ag­glom­er­ate of in­di­vidu­als. It is thus dia­lect­ic­al in the strict sense, be­cause the me­di­ation between these two op­posed cat­egor­ies — in­di­vidu­als on one side and so­ci­ety on the oth­er — is im­pli­cit in both.”13 One of the in­ter­me­di­ate terms of this re­la­tion­ship is class, which struc­tures their op­pos­i­tion.14 Without this broad­er di­ver­gence, Lukács ob­served, “the ob­ject­ive eco­nom­ic ant­ag­on­ism as ex­pressed in the class struggle evap­or­ates, leav­ing just the con­flict between in­di­vidu­al and so­ci­ety.”15

Vul­gar Aus­tro­marx­ists like Max Adler were the ob­ject of Lukács’ cri­ti­cism in this pas­sage, but Trot­sky had his own fol­low­ers in mind when he cri­ti­cized the boot­strap­ping ideo­logy of Amer­ic­an cap­it­al­ism. “Nowhere has there been such re­jec­tion of class struggle as the land of ‘un­lim­ited op­por­tun­ity.’ Deni­al of so­cial con­tra­dic­tions as the mov­ing force of de­vel­op­ment leads to the deni­al of the dia­lectic as the lo­gic of con­tra­dic­tions in the do­main of the­or­et­ic­al thought.”16 Pro­let­ari­ans no longer see them­selves as such, a prob­lem which deeply troubled Ad­orno.17 As the great Hegel­i­an Marx­ist Ant­o­nio Lab­ri­ola poin­ted out sev­er­al dec­ades pri­or, however,

The real cri­ti­cism of so­ci­ety is so­ci­ety it­self, which by the an­ti­thet­ic con­di­tions upon which it rests en­genders from it­self — with­in it­self — the con­tra­dic­tion over which it fi­nally tri­umphs by passing in­to a new form. But the solu­tion of ex­ist­ing an­ti­theses is the pro­let­ari­at, wheth­er pro­let­ari­ans them­selves know this or not. Even as their misery has be­come the con­di­tion of present so­ci­ety, so in their misery resides the jus­ti­fic­a­tion of the new pro­let­ari­an re­volu­tion. It is in this pas­sage from the cri­ti­cism of sub­ject­ive thought, which ex­am­ines things from the out­side and ima­gines it can cor­rect them all at once, to an un­der­stand­ing of the self-cri­ti­cism ex­er­cised by so­ci­ety over it­self in the im­man­ence of its own pro­ces­sus. It is in this alone that the dia­lectic of his­tory con­sists, which Marx and En­gels, in­so­far as they re­mained ma­ter­i­al­ists, drew from the ideal­ism of Hegel.18

Lab­ri­ola thereby in­tro­duces a con­di­tio sine qua non of dia­lect­ic­al thought, “the im­man­ence of its own pro­cess.” Hegel once defined dia­lectics as “the im­man­ent pro­cess of tran­scend­ence [dies im­ma­nen­te Hin­aus­ge­hen]” of fi­nite judg­ments is­sued by the in­tel­lect,19 a defin­i­tion later bor­rowed by Lukács.20 Ac­cord­ing to Hegel, think­ing is noth­ing oth­er than “the res­ol­u­tion of con­tra­dic­tions from its own re­sources [aus sich].”21

This is what Marx meant in 1859 when he trans­posed the forms of so­cial con­scious­ness onto the sol­id ground of so­cial be­ing, re­vers­ing their se­quence. “So­cial form­a­tions are nev­er des­troyed un­til the pro­duct­ive forces for which it is suf­fi­cient have been de­veloped, and new re­la­tions of pro­duc­tion nev­er re­place older ones be­fore the pre­requis­ites for their ex­ist­ence have ma­tured with­in the womb of the old so­ci­ety,” Marx wrote. “Hu­man­ity thus ex­clus­ively sets it­self such tasks as it is able to solve, since closer ex­am­in­a­tion will al­ways show that the prob­lem it­self arises only when the ma­ter­i­al con­di­tions for its solu­tion are already present, or at least in the course of form­a­tion.”22 More than a dec­ade later, he yet again con­firmed that the work­ing class has “no ideals to real­ize, but to set free those ele­ments of the new so­ci­ety with which old col­lapsing bour­geois so­ci­ety it­self is preg­nant.”23 Com­mun­ist so­ci­ety, once it fi­nally makes its en­trance upon the world stage, will “still be stamped with the birth­marks of the old so­ci­ety from whose womb it emerges,” as Marx in­dic­ated in his 1875 Cri­tique of the Gotha Pro­gram.24 Each suc­cess­ive stage must be “over­come dia­lect­ic­ally,” as Hegel put it, “i.e., through it­self, car­ry­ing all its pre­vi­ous de­term­in­a­tions sub­lated with­in it­self.”25

It was Marx, after all, for whom “the dia­lectic of neg­at­iv­ity as the mov­ing and gen­er­at­ing prin­ciple” rep­res­en­ted “the out­stand­ing achieve­ment of Hegel’s Phänomenologie and its fi­nal out­come: the self-cre­ation of man as a pro­cess.”26 En­gels later com­men­ted that if Hegel had demon­strated the trans­it­ory char­ac­ter of everything and in everything — “the un­in­ter­rup­ted pro­cess of be­com­ing and passing away” — then “dia­lect­ic­al philo­sophy is noth­ing oth­er than the re­flec­tion of this pro­cess in the think­ing brain.”27 Quot­ing Goethe’s Faust, he pro­claimed: “All that ex­ists de­serves to per­ish.”28 Though the sys­tem­ic side of Hegel­ian­ism ten­ded to be more con­ser­vat­ive than its meth­od, it nev­er­the­less con­tained the ex­plos­ive dy­nam­ism of an un­pre­ced­en­ted so­cial form.29 (Moishe Po­stone has even pro­posed to read the present­a­tion of Marx’s ar­gu­ment in Cap­it­al as a “meta­com­ment­ary on Hegel,” since the real pro­cess that his philo­sophy re­flects be­longs to cap­it­al­ism).30 With­in cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety there can already be found abund­ant neg­at­iv­ity, but it is a fecund neg­at­iv­ity; to para­phrase Ni­et­z­sche, the present suf­fers from “a sick­ness…, but a sick­ness rather like preg­nancy.”31

Giv­en this pre­vail­ing so­ci­et­al neg­at­iv­ity, a “neg­a­tion of the neg­a­tion” would be ne­ces­sary to de­liv­er the fu­ture from the womb of the present.32 “As a con­sequence of the pro­duc­tion pro­cess,” wrote Marx, “the pos­sib­il­it­ies rest­ing in liv­ing labor’s own womb ex­ist out­side it as real­it­ies — but as real­it­ies ali­en to it, which form wealth in op­pos­i­tion to it.”33 Neg­at­ing such ali­en real­it­ies re­quires force, or a ma­ter­i­al­iz­a­tion of this ideal­ized Hegel­i­an neg­at­ive dia­lectic.34 “Force is the mid­wife of every old so­ci­ety which is preg­nant with a new one,” claimed Marx in Cap­it­al.35 So­ciohis­tor­ic im­man­ence, which he sought to con­vey through this lit­er­ary trope of preg­nancy, is em­bod­ied by the pro­let­ari­at. Wage labor gest­ates in­side the so­cial nex­us of ex­pan­ded re­pro­duc­tion, grow­ing in ex­act pro­por­tion to the in­crease of cap­it­al. Pro­let­ari­ans are “the first­born sons of mod­ern in­dustry.”36

Rolf Hos­feld thus as­tutely com­ments in his re­cent in­tel­lec­tu­al bio­graphy of Marx that “he wanted to de­vel­op new prin­ciples for the world out of the world’s own prin­ciples, through the meth­od of an im­man­ent cri­tique of the world.”37 Hos­feld’s passing com­ment has been worked out in great­er de­tail by Po­stone, even if the lat­ter re­jects labor as the stand­point of cri­tique:

The no­tion that the struc­tures, or un­der­ly­ing re­la­tions, of mod­ern so­ci­ety are con­tra­dict­ory provides the the­or­et­ic­al basis for an im­man­ent his­tor­ic­al cri­tique, which al­lows it to elu­cid­ate an his­tor­ic­al dy­nam­ic in­trins­ic to the so­cial form­a­tion — a dia­lectic point­ing bey­ond it­self, to that real­iz­able “ought” which is im­man­ent to what already “is” and serves as the stand­point of its cri­tique. Ac­cord­ing to this ap­proach, so­cial con­tra­dic­tion is the pre­con­di­tion of both an in­trins­ic his­tor­ic­al dy­nam­ic and the ex­ist­ence of a so­cial cri­tique it­self.38

Yet the im­plic­a­tions of this in­sight prove much more far-reach­ing, ex­tend­ing bey­ond the­ory. “Im­man­ent cri­tique also has a prac­tic­al mo­ment,” Po­stone goes on to state, “con­trib­ut­ing to so­cial and polit­ic­al trans­form­a­tion.” Since it “re­jects po­s­i­tions which af­firm the giv­en or­der as well as uto­pi­an cri­tiques of that or­der,” the ori­ent­a­tion of cri­ti­cism is neither apo­lo­get­ic nor un­real­ist­ic.39 Marx long ago pro­nounced that “in its ra­tion­al form, [the dia­lectic] in­cludes in its pos­it­ive un­der­stand­ing of what ex­ists a sim­ul­tan­eous re­cog­ni­tion of its neg­a­tion, its in­ev­it­able de­struc­tion; be­cause it re­gards every his­tor­ic­ally de­veloped form as in a flu­id state, in mo­tion, and there­fore grasps its tran­si­ent as­pect; and be­cause it does not let it­self be im­pressed by any­thing, be­ing in its very es­sence crit­ic­al and re­volu­tion­ary.”40 Len­in sim­il­arly stressed many years later that cap­it­al­ism could only be over­come by “a long and per­sist­ent struggle on the basis of cap­it­al­ism it­self.”41

Epi­stem­o­lo­gic­ally, Rosa Lux­em­burg un­der­stood that Marx­ism was it­self a product of the im­man­ent cri­tique of French re­volu­tion­ary so­cial­ism, Ger­man ideal­ist philo­sophy, and Brit­ish polit­ic­al eco­nomy: “Marxi­an the­ory is a child of bour­geois sci­ence, but the birth of this child has cost the moth­er her life.”42 One of the ba­sic pre­cepts of dia­lect­ic­al think­ing, then, or one of its rules of thumb, is “the judg­ment of works by im­man­ent cri­ter­ia [immanenten Kriterien],” to quote the Marx­ist lit­er­ary crit­ic Wal­ter Ben­jamin.43 “Dia­lectic is not a stand­point,” ar­gued his col­league Ad­orno a few dec­ades later, “but rather the at­tempt, by means of an im­man­ent cri­tique, to de­vel­op philo­soph­ic­al stand­points bey­ond them­selves and bey­ond the des­pot­ism of a think­ing based on stand­points.”44 When Lukács, fol­low­ing Marx and En­gels, in­voked the “stand­point of the pro­let­ari­at,”45 this was not as some sort of Archimedean point out­side of the world. Rather, it was as a point in­side the cap­it­al­ist mode of pro­duc­tion from which the so­cial to­tal­ity could be glimpsed.46

Proud­hon’s 1840 treat­ise What is Prop­erty? was ap­pre­ci­ated by Marx and En­gels for just this reas­on, for un­der­tak­ing “a cri­ti­cism of polit­ic­al eco­nomy from the stand­point of polit­ic­al eco­nomy.” Even if it treated his­tor­ic­ally-evolved im­passes as im­mut­able, they ac­know­ledged that “the first cri­ti­cism of any sci­ence is ne­ces­sar­ily in­flu­enced by the premises of the sci­ence it is fight­ing against.”47 Some twenty years fol­low­ing this ini­tial en­counter, Marx re­called that Proud­hon “im­it­ated Kant’s treat­ment of the an­ti­nom­ies.”48 If later on “Proud­hon at­temp­ted to present the sys­tem of eco­nom­ic cat­egor­ies dia­lect­ic­ally,” namely by in­tro­du­cing “Hegel­i­an ‘con­tra­dic­tions’ in place of Kant’s in­sol­uble ‘an­ti­nom­ies’ as means of de­vel­op­ment,” for Marx this was an in­fe­li­cit­ous turn.49 Gran­ted, “Proud­hon had a nat­ur­al in­clin­a­tion for dia­lectics. But as he nev­er grasped truly sci­entif­ic dia­lectics, he nev­er got fur­ther than soph­istry.”50 Of course Hegel dis­tin­guished sharply between dia­lectics and soph­istry, “the es­sence of which con­sists pre­cisely in up­hold­ing one-sided and ab­stract de­term­in­a­tions in isol­a­tion from one an­oth­er, de­pend­ing on the in­di­vidu­al’s re­spect­ive in­terests and par­tic­u­lar situ­ation.” 51 Len­in used this dis­tinc­tion in his own work:

The great Hegel­i­an dia­lectics that Marx­ism made its own, hav­ing first turned it right side up, must nev­er be con­fused with the vul­gar trick of jus­ti­fy­ing the zig­zags of those politi­cians who swing over from the re­volu­tion­ary to the op­por­tun­ist wing of the party, with the vul­gar habit of lump­ing to­geth­er par­tic­u­lar state­ments and de­vel­op­ment­al factors be­long­ing to dif­fer­ent stages of a single pro­cess. Genu­ine dia­lectics does not jus­ti­fy the er­rors of in­di­vidu­als… but stud­ies the in­ev­it­able turns, prov­ing that they were in­ev­it­able through a de­tailed study of the pro­cess of de­vel­op­ment in all its con­crete­ness. One of the core prin­ciples of dia­lectics is that there is no such thing as ab­stract truth; truth is al­ways con­crete.52

Here Len­in was simply quot­ing Hegel,53 a line first brought to light by Plekhan­ov. “Dia­lect­ic­al lo­gic de­mands we go fur­ther,” Len­in stated else­where. “To really know an ob­ject, one must grasp and in­vest­ig­ate all of its sides, all of its in­ter­con­nec­tions and ‘me­di­ations’.”54 (Ad­orno’s warn­ing is well taken, however: “Only if [truth] is present can the much-mis­used say­ing that ‘the truth is con­crete’ prop­erly come in­to its own, com­pel­ling philo­sophy to crack open the minu­ti­ae of thought. We must philo­soph­ize not about con­crete de­tails but from with­in them, by as­sem­bling con­cepts around them”).55 In the mean­time, however, Len­in ac­cused Kaut­sky, Plekhan­ov, and Vandervelde of “sub­sti­tut­ing ec­lecticism and soph­istry for dia­lectics.”56 Such ec­lecticism and soph­istry has hardly gone away since Len­in wrote these lines; one need only glance at any num­ber of re­cent titles for proof.

Notes


1 Karl Marx. “Let­ter to Friedrich En­gels of Decem­ber 9, 1861.” Trans­lated by Peter and Betty Ross. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 41. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1985). Pg. 333.
2 Vladi­mir Len­in. “On the Ques­tion of Dia­lectics.” Trans­lated by Clem­ens Dutt. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 38: Philo­soph­ic­al Note­books. (Pro­gress Pub­lish­ers. Mo­scow, USSR: 1976). Pg. 357.
3 C.L.R. James. Notes on Dia­lectics: Hegel, Marx, Len­in. (Lawrence Hill Pub­lish­ers. West­port, CT: 2005). Pg. 170.
4 Vladi­mir Len­in. “Con­spect­us of Hegel’s Sci­ence of Lo­gic.” Trans­lated by Clem­ens Dutt. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 38. Pg. 229.
5 Theodor W. Ad­orno. Hegel: Three Stud­ies. Trans­lated by Shi­erry Weber Nich­olson. (MIT Press. Cam­bridge, MA: 1993). Pg. 75.
6 Vladi­mir Len­in. What the “Friends of the People” Are and How They Fight the So­cial Demo­crats. Trans­lat­or not lis­ted. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 1: 1893-1894. (Pro­gress Pub­lish­ers. Mo­scow, USSR: 1960). Pgs. 183-184.
7 Georg Lukács. Len­in: A Study on the Unity of His Thought. Trans­lated by Nich­olas Jac­obs. (Verso Books. New York, NY: 2009). Pg. 21. Trans­la­tion amended.
8 Le­on Trot­sky. “Cul­ture and So­cial­ism.” Trans­lated by Bri­an Pearce. Prob­lems of Every­day Life and Oth­er Writ­ings on Cul­ture and Sci­ence. (Pathfind­er Press. New York, NY: 1973). Pg. 233.
9 Le­on Trot­sky. My Life: An At­tempt at Auto­bi­o­graphy. Trans­lated by Joseph Hansen. (Pathfind­er Press. New York, NY: 1970). Pg. 122.
10 Le­on Trot­sky. “The ABC of Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism.” Trans­lated by John G. Wright. Prob­lems of Every­day Life. Pg. 323. Chris Ar­thur sim­il­arly says of the So­viet eco­nomy that “if the law of value en­forced through cap­it­al­ist com­pet­i­tion is no longer op­er­at­ive we have a clock without a spring.” The New Dia­lectic and Marx’s Cap­it­al. (Brill Aca­dem­ic Pub­lish­ers. Bo­ston, MA: 2004) Pg. 222.
11 Le­on Trot­sky. “The Curve of Cap­it­al­ist De­vel­op­ment.” Trans­lat­or un­lis­ted. The Chal­lenge of the Left Op­pos­i­tion Se­lec­ted Writ­ings and Speeches, 1923-1925. (Pathfind­er Press. New York, NY: 1975). Pg. 275.
12 Le­on Trot­sky, “Prob­lems of Civil War.” Trans­lated by A.L. Pre­ston. Chal­lenge of the Left Op­pos­i­tion. Pg. 198.
13 Theodor W. Ad­orno. In­tro­duc­tion to So­ci­ology. Trans­lated by Ed­mund Jeph­cott. (Stan­ford Uni­versity Press. Stan­ford, CA: 2000). Pg. 38.
14 Ad­orno defines so­ci­ety as it presently ex­ists as “an ant­ag­on­ist­ic, di­vided, class so­ci­ety in which the in­terests of groups are es­sen­tially, ob­ject­ively in con­flict.” Ibid., pg. 66.
15 Georg Lukács. “What is Or­tho­dox Marx­ism?” Trans­lated by Rod­ney Liv­ing­stone. His­tory and Class Con­scious­ness. (The MIT Press. Cam­bridge, MA: 1971). Pg. 11.
16 Trot­sky, “The ABC of Dia­lect­ic­al Ma­ter­i­al­ism.” Pg. 323.
17 “If there really is a gradu­al pro­cess whereby those who are ob­ject­ively defined as pro­let­ari­ans, ac­cord­ing to some threshold, are no longer con­scious of them­selves as such or em­phat­ic­ally re­ject this con­scious­ness, then no pro­let­ari­an will fi­nally be left know­ing he is a pro­let­ari­an.” Ad­orno, In­tro­duc­tion to So­ci­ology. Pg. 23.
18 Ant­o­nio Lab­ri­ola. Es­says on the Ma­ter­i­al­ist Con­cep­tion of His­tory. Trans­lated by Charles H. Kerr. (Charles H. Kerr & Com­pany. Chica­go, IL: 1908). Pgs. 169-170.
19 G.W.F. Hegel. En­cyc­lo­pe­dia of the Philo­soph­ic­al Sci­ences in Ba­sic Out­line, Part 1: The Sci­ence of Lo­gic. Trans­lated by Klaus Brink­mann and Daniel Dahl­strom. (Cam­bridge Uni­versity Press. New York, NY: 2010). Pg. 129.
20 Georg Lukács, “Re­ific­a­tion and the Con­scious­ness of the Pro­let­ari­at.” His­tory and Class Con­scious­ness. Pg. 177.
21 Hegel, En­cyc­lo­pe­dia, Part 1. Pg. 39. Trans­la­tion mod­i­fied.
22 Karl Marx. “Pre­face to Con­tri­bu­tion to a Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Eco­nomy.” Trans­lated by Yuri Sdob­nikov. Col­lec­ted Writ­ings, Volume 29: 1857-1861. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1987). Pg. 263. Trans­la­tion mod­i­fied.
23 Karl Marx. The Civil War in France. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 22: 1870-1871. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1986). Pg. 335.
24 Karl Marx. Cri­tique of the Gotha Pro­gram. Trans­lated by Peter and Betty Ross. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 24. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1986). Pg. 85.
25 Hegel, En­cyc­lo­pe­dia, Part 1. Pg. 233. Trans­la­tion amended.
26 Karl Marx. Eco­nom­ic and Philo­soph­ic­al Manuscripts. Trans­lated by Mar­tin Mil­ligan and Dirk J. Stru­ik. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 3: 1843-1844. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1975). Pg. 332.
27 Friedrich En­gels. Lud­wig Feuerbach and the End of Ger­man Clas­sic­al Philo­sophy. Trans­lat­or un­lis­ted. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 26: En­gels, 1882-1889. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1990). Pg. 360.
28 Ibid., pg. 359.
29 “Who­ever placed the em­phas­is on the Hegel­i­an sys­tem could be fairly con­ser­vat­ive in both [re­li­gion and polit­ics]; who­ever re­garded the dia­lect­ic­al meth­od as the main thing could be­long to the most ex­treme op­pos­i­tion [in both spheres].” Ibid., pg. 363.
30 “Marx did not ‘ap­ply’ Hegel to clas­sic­al polit­ic­al eco­nomy, but con­tex­tu­al­ized Hegel’s con­cepts in terms of the so­cial forms of cap­it­al­ist so­ci­ety. The ma­ture cri­tique of Hegel is im­pli­cit in the un­fold­ing of the cat­egor­ies in Cap­it­al — which, by par­al­lel­ing the way Hegel un­folds these con­cepts, sug­gests the de­term­in­ate so­ciohis­tor­ic­al con­text of which they are ex­pres­sions. In terms of Marx’s ana­lys­is, Hegel’s con­cepts ex­press fun­da­ment­al as­pects of cap­it­al­ist real­ity but do not ad­equately grasp them.” Moishe Po­stone. Time, Labor, and So­cial Dom­in­a­tion: A Re­in­ter­pret­a­tion of Marx’s Crit­ic­al The­ory. (Cam­bridge Uni­versity Press. New York, NY: 1993). Pg. 81.
31 Friedrich Ni­et­z­sche. On the Gene­a­logy of Mor­al­ity: A Po­lem­ic. Trans­lated by Car­ol Di­ethe. (Cam­bridge Uni­versity Press. New York, NY: 2006). Pg. 60.
32 Friedrich En­gels. Anti-Dühring: Herr Eu­gen Dühring’s Re­volu­tion in Sci­ence. Trans­lated by Emile Burns. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 25: En­gels. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1987). Pg. 124.
33 Karl Marx. Grundrisse: Found­a­tion of the Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Eco­nomy. Trans­lated by Mar­tin Nic­olaus. (Pen­guin Books. New York, NY: 1973). Pg. 454.
34 “Cap­it­al­ist pro­duc­tion… be­gets its own neg­a­tion… the neg­a­tion of the neg­a­tion.” Karl Marx. Cap­it­al: A Cri­tique of Polit­ic­al Eco­nomy, Volume 1. Trans­lated by Ben Fowkes. (Pen­guin Books. New York, NY: 1976). Pg. 929.
35 Ibid., pg. 916.
36 Karl Marx. “Speech at the An­niversary of the People’s Pa­per.” Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 14: 1855-1856. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1980). Pg. 656.
37 Rolf Hos­feld. Karl Marx: An In­tel­lec­tu­al Bio­graphy. Trans­lated by Bern­ard Heise. (Berghahn Books. New York, NY: 2013). Pg. 29.
38 Po­stone, Time, Labor, and So­cial Dom­in­a­tion. Pg. 88.
39 “As an im­man­ent cri­tique, the Marxi­an ana­lys­is claims to be dia­lect­ic­al be­cause it shows its ob­ject to be so.” Ibid., pg. 142.
40 Marx, Cap­it­al, Volume 1. Pg. 103.
41 Vladi­mir Len­in. “Left-Wing” Com­mun­ism: An In­fant­ile Dis­order. Trans­lated by Ju­li­us Katzer. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 31. (Pro­gress Pub­lish­ers. Mo­scow, USSR: 1966). Pg. 56.
42 „Die Marx­sche Lehre ist ein Kind der bürgerlichen Wis­senschaft, aber die Ge­burt dieses Kindes hat der Mut­ter das Leben gekostet“. Rosa Lux­em­burg. „Karl Marx“. Ges­am­melte Werke, Bd. 1, 2. S. 369-377.
43 Wal­ter Ben­jamin. “The Concept of Cri­ti­cism in Ger­man Ro­man­ti­cism.” Trans­lated by Dav­id Lachter­man, Howard Ei­l­and, and Ian Balfour. Se­lec­ted Writ­ings, Volume 1: 1913-1926. (Har­vard Uni­versity Press. Cam­bridge, MA: 1996. Pg. 155.
44 Theodor W. Ad­orno. “Why Still Philo­sophy?” Trans­lated by Henry W. Pick­ford. Crit­ic­al Mod­els: In­ter­ven­tions and Catch­words. (Columbia Uni­versity Press. New York, NY: 2005). Pg. 12.
45 In­di­vidu­als are re­volu­tion­ary in­so­far as they “aban­don their own stand­point in or­der to ad­opt that of the pro­let­ari­at [so ver­lassen sie ihren ei­gen­en Stand­punkt, um sich auf den des Pro­let­ari­ats zu stel­len].” Karl Marx and Friedrich En­gels. Mani­festo of the Com­mun­ist Party. Trans­lated by Samuel Moore and Friedrich En­gels. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 6: 1848. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1976). Pg. 494.
46 See the sec­tion on “the stand­point of the pro­let­ari­at” in Lukács, His­tory and Class Con­scious­ness. Pg. 149.
47 Karl Marx and Friedrich En­gels. The Holy Fam­ily, or Cri­tique of Crit­ic­al Cri­ti­cism: Against Bruno Bauer and Com­pany. Trans­lated by Richard Dix­on and Clem­ens Dutt. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 5: 1844-1845. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1975). Pg. 31.
48 Karl Marx. “On Proud­hon.” Trans­lat­or un­lis­ted. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 20: 1864-1868. (In­ter­na­tion­al Pub­lish­ers. New York, NY: 1985). Pg. 27.
49 Ibid., pg. 29. Marx even ac­cep­ted re­spons­ib­il­ity for this: “Dur­ing my stay in Par­is in 1844, I came in­to per­son­al con­tact with Proud­hon. I men­tion this here be­cause to a cer­tain ex­tent I am also to blame for his soph­ist­ic­a­tion, as the Eng­lish call the adul­ter­a­tion of com­mer­cial goods. In the course of lengthy de­bates of­ten last­ing all night, I in­fec­ted him very much to his det­ri­ment with Hegel­ian­ism, which, ow­ing to his lack of Ger­man, he could not study prop­erly.” Ibid., pg. 28.
50 Ibid., pg. 33.
51 Hegel, En­cyc­lo­pe­dia Lo­gic. Pg. 129.
52 Vladi­mir Len­in. One Step For­ward, Two Steps Back. Trans­lated by Ab­ra­ham Fine­berg. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 7: Septem­ber 1903-Decem­ber 1904. (Pro­gress Pub­lish­ers. Mo­scow, USSR: 1961). Pg. 409.
53 “Everything true is con­crete.” G.W.F. Hegel. Ele­ments of the Philo­sophy of Right. Trans­lated by H.B. Nis­bet. (Cam­bridge Uni­versity Press. New York, NY: 1991). Pg. 41.
54 “Dia­lect­ic­al lo­gic holds that ‘truth is al­ways con­crete, nev­er ab­stract,’ as the late Plekhan­ov liked to say after Hegel.” Vladi­mir Len­in. “Once Again on the Trade Uni­ons.” Trans­lated by Yuri Sdob­nikov. Col­lec­ted Work, Volume 32: Decem­ber 1920-Au­gust 1921. (Pro­gress Pub­lish­ers. Mo­scow, USSR: 1965). Pg. 94.
55 Theodor Ad­orno. Lec­tures on Neg­at­ive Dia­lectics. Trans­lated by Rod­ney Liv­ing­stone. (Polity Press. Malden, MA: 2008). Pg. 198.
56 Vladi­mir Len­in. The Pro­let­ari­an Re­volu­tion and the Reneg­ade Kaut­sky. Trans­lated by Jim Ri­ordan. Col­lec­ted Works, Volume 28: Ju­ly 1918-March 1919. (Pro­gress Pub­lish­ers. Mo­scow, USSR: 1965). Pgs. 229-230, 233-234, 323, 325.


Marxism and historical predictions

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Be­cause Marx­ism ad­dresses it­self prin­cip­ally to his­tory, its ad­her­ents of­ten traffic in his­tor­ic­al pre­dic­tions. This was true of Marx and En­gels no less than their fol­low­ers, and more of­ten than not their pre­dic­tions turned out to be in­ac­cur­ate or mis­taken. Pro­let­ari­an re­volu­tion — which Marx some­times called “the re­volu­tion of the nine­teenth cen­tury” — did not ul­ti­mately win out or carry the day. Cap­it­al­ism has not yet col­lapsed, and des­pite the peri­od­ic pro­nounce­ments of Marx­ist pro­fess­ors every time the stock mar­ket dips, none of the crises it’s en­dured has proved ter­min­al.

Karl Pop­per, Ray­mond Aron, and oth­er op­pon­ents of Marxi­an the­ory of­ten raise the fail­ure of such fore­casts as proof that its doc­trine is “un­falsifi­able.” Op­pon­ents of Marx­ism are not the only ones who re­joice at Marx­ism’s frus­trated pro­gnost­ic­a­tions; op­por­tun­ist­ic re­vi­sion­ists have also taken com­fort whenev­er things don’t quite pan out. Georg Lukács ob­served al­most a hun­dred years ago that “the op­por­tun­ist in­ter­pret­a­tion of Marx­ism im­me­di­ately fastens on to the so-called er­rors of Marx’s in­di­vidu­al pre­dic­tions in or­der to elim­in­ate re­volu­tion root and branch from Marx­ism as a whole.”

Some of this is rather un­avoid­able. De­bates about wheth­er the cap­it­al­ist break­down is in­ev­it­able, the vagar­ies of Zu­sam­men­bruchs­theo­rie, ne­ces­sar­ily in­volve spec­u­la­tion about the fu­ture res­ults of present dy­nam­ics — wheth­er self-an­ni­hil­a­tion is a built-in fea­ture of cap­it­al­ism, wheth­er the en­tire mode of pro­duc­tion is a tick­ing time-bomb. Yet there have been con­crete in­stances in which the foresight of cer­tain Marx­ists seems al­most proph­et­ic in hind­sight. Not just in broad strokes, either, as for ex­ample the even­tu­al tri­umph of bour­geois eco­nom­ics across the globe.

En­gels’ very de­tailed pre­dic­tion, ori­gin­ally made in 1887, came true al­most to the let­ter:

The only war left for Prus­sia-Ger­many to wage will be a world war, a world war, moreover, of an ex­tent and vi­ol­ence hitherto un­ima­gined. Eight to ten mil­lion sol­diers will be at each oth­er’s throats and in the pro­cess they will strip Europe barer than a swarm of lo­custs.

The de­pred­a­tions of the Thirty Years’ War com­pressed in­to three to four years and ex­ten­ded over the en­tire con­tin­ent; fam­ine, dis­ease, the uni­ver­sal lapse in­to bar­bar­ism, both of the armies and the people, in the wake of acute misery; ir­re­triev­able dis­lo­ca­tion of our ar­ti­fi­cial sys­tem of trade, in­dustry, and cred­it, end­ing in uni­ver­sal bank­ruptcy; col­lapse of the old states and their con­ven­tion­al polit­ic­al wis­dom to the point where crowns will roll in­to the gut­ters by the dozen, and no one will be around to pick them up; the ab­so­lute im­possib­il­ity of fore­see­ing how it will all end and who will emerge as vic­tor from the battle.

Only one con­sequence is ab­so­lutely cer­tain: uni­ver­sal ex­haus­tion and the cre­ation of the con­di­tions for the ul­ti­mate vic­tory of the work­ing class.

Re­gard­ing this last line, “the con­di­tions for the ul­ti­mate vic­tory of the work­ing class” un­doubtedly were cre­ated by the world war between great cap­it­al­ist powers. Wheth­er these con­di­tions were ac­ted upon is an­oth­er, sad­der story. Coun­ter­fac­tu­als aside, the fact re­mains that things could have been oth­er­wise. His­tor­ic cir­cum­stances con­spired to open up a def­in­ite field of po­ten­tial out­comes, in which in­ter­na­tion­al pro­let­ari­an re­volu­tion seemed not just ab­stractly pos­sible but con­cretely prob­able.

Le­on Trot­sky’s pre­dic­tion of the im­pend­ing Judeo­cide in Europe, made al­most half a cen­tury later, was also un­canny in its ter­ri­fy­ing ac­cur­acy. From a ra­dio broad­cast in Decem­ber 1938:

Suf­foc­at­ing in its own con­tra­dic­tions, cap­it­al­ism dir­ects en­raged blows against the Jews, moreover a part of these blows fall upon the Jew­ish bour­geois­ie in spite of all its past “ser­vice” for cap­it­al­ism. Meas­ures of a phil­an­thropic nature for refugees be­come less and less ef­fic­a­cious in com­par­is­on with the gi­gant­ic di­men­sion of the evil bur­den­ing the Jew­ish people.

Now it is the turn of France. The vic­tory of fas­cism in this coun­try would sig­ni­fy a vast strength­en­ing of re­ac­tion, and a mon­strous growth of vi­ol­ent an­ti­semit­ism in all the world, above all in the United States. The num­ber of coun­tries which ex­pel the Jews grows without cease. The num­ber of coun­tries able to ac­cept them de­creases. At the same time the ex­acer­ba­tion of the struggle in­tens­i­fies.

It is pos­sible to ima­gine without dif­fi­culty what awaits the Jews at the mere out­break of the fu­ture world war. But even without war the next de­vel­op­ment of world re­ac­tion sig­ni­fies with cer­tainty the phys­ic­al ex­term­in­a­tion of the Jews.

Al­though this might at first seem less im­press­ive than En­gels’ fore­cast of the First World War, giv­en that Trot­sky was not so far chro­no­lo­gic­ally re­moved from what he said would take place. The hor­rif­ic events that he pre­dicted soon tran­spired. Still, it is worth re­mem­ber­ing that few at the time be­lieved things would get as bad as they even­tu­ally did. Jews trapped in Europe knew their situ­ation was dire, but few would have been so bold as to pre­dict their own “phys­ic­al ex­term­in­a­tion.” Not even ex­iled mem­bers of the Frank­furt School, fam­ous for their pess­im­ism, went this far be­fore the out­break of war.

Usu­ally Trot­sky did not like to make pre­dic­tions, it should be said: “His­tor­ic­al fore­casts, un­like those of as­tro­nomy, are al­ways con­di­tion­al, con­tain­ing op­tions and al­tern­at­ives,” he wrote in 1929. “Any claims to powers of ex­act pre­dic­tion would be ri­dicu­lous where a struggle between liv­ing forces is in­volved. The task of his­tor­ic­al pre­dic­tion is to dif­fer­en­ti­ate between the pos­sible and the im­possible and to sep­ar­ate the most likely vari­ants out from all those that are the­or­et­ic­ally pos­sible.”


“Last illusions”: The Labour Party and the Left

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Efraim Car­le­bach
Platy­pus Re­view
№ 97
, June 2017
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In every era the at­tempt must be made anew to wrest tra­di­tion away from a con­form­ism that is about to over­power it… even the dead will not be safe from the en­emy if he wins. And this en­emy has not ceased to be vic­tori­ous.

— Wal­ter Ben­jamin, Theses on the Philo­sophy of His­tory

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Since Jeremy Corbyn took lead­er­ship of the La­bour Party in 2015, he and his party have been the North Star for many on the Left. This re­ori­ent­a­tion has raised old ques­tions about the Left’s re­la­tion­ship to the La­bour Party. At the Ox­ford Rad­ic­al For­um in March the de­scrip­tion for a pan­el on “Corbyn, La­bour, and the Rad­ic­al Left” put for­ward a num­ber of symp­to­mat­ic pro­pos­i­tions. It re­gistered the fact that “sev­er­al so­cial­ist tend­en­cies which had pre­vi­ously cam­paigned against the party now com­mit­ted to sup­port­ing it un­der Corbyn’s lead­er­ship” and that Corbyn’s elec­tion to lead­er “was largely viewed as a mo­ment of tri­umph for the far left.” But what is the Left? And what would mean for it to tri­umph? It sug­ges­ted that the Left has “a great­er de­gree of in­flu­ence in party polit­ics than it has for dec­ades.” But what is a polit­ic­al party for the Left? The de­scrip­tion wor­ries about what will hap­pen if Corbyn loses in a gen­er­al elec­tion. The hopes for trans­form­ing the La­bour Party seem in danger. Ral­ph Miliband is un­con­sciously in­voked: Should the left “pur­sue so­cial­ism” by “par­lia­ment­ary” or “non-par­lia­ment­ary” means? Solace is taken in the thought that the La­bour Party is “clearly more so­cial­ist than any since 1983 — and per­haps even earli­er.”1 But what is so­cial­ism?

As the Left, in vari­ous ways, rushes to em­brace La­bour, the his­tory of the La­bour Party rises up be­hind it. This art­icle relates that his­tory to the his­tory of Marx­ism from 1848 to WWI, par­tic­u­larly the “re­vi­sion­ist dis­pute.” On the ru­ins of that his­tory ap­pears the ap­par­ent pleth­ora of “Left” ori­ent­a­tions to La­bour today.

Bona­partism and re­form­ism

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In their re­spect­ive cri­ti­cisms of re­vi­sion­ism in the re­vi­sion­ist dis­pute with­in the Second In­ter­na­tion­al, Lux­em­burg and Len­in ar­gued that the re­vi­sion­ists had re­gressed to pre-Marxi­an so­cial­ism, to lib­er­al­ism and petit-bour­geois demo­cracy, li­quid­at­ing the need for so­cial­ist lead­er­ship. Len­in and Lux­em­burg sought to ad­vance bey­ond the im­passe by re­turn­ing to the high point of con­scious­ness in Marx’s re­cog­ni­tion of the les­sons of the failed re­volu­tions of 1848. Un­like the re­vi­sion­ists they did not have a lin­ear-pro­gress­ive view of his­tory. The 1848 re­volu­tions failed to de­liv­er the “so­cial re­pub­lic.” As Marx wrote, the bour­geois­ie were no longer able to rule and the pro­let­ari­at not yet ready.2 The state had to in­ter­vene to man­age the self-con­tra­dic­tion of bour­geois so­ci­ety, that is, cap­it­al­ism. Louis Bona­parte filled this va­cu­um of power by ap­peal­ing for sup­port to the dis­con­tents of all classes in so­ci­ety and ex­pand­ing state in­sti­tu­tions of wel­fare and po­lice as tools for con­trolling con­tra­dic­tions in so­ci­ety. So Bona­partism led the dis­con­tents of the masses to polit­ic­ally re­con­sti­t­ute cap­it­al through the state. This was an in­ter­na­tion­al phe­nomen­on, af­fect­ing all the ma­jor cap­it­al­ist coun­tries, in­clud­ing the United King­dom. For Marx, the les­son of 1848 was the ne­ces­sity of the polit­ic­al in­de­pend­ence of the work­ing class from petit-bour­geois demo­cracy, or the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at. In the ab­sence of this in­de­pend­ent polit­ic­al lead­er­ship, the masses would be led by the right, as they were by Louis Bona­parte.

In Re­form or Re­volu­tion, Lux­em­burg ar­gues that so­cial re­forms do not so­cial­ize pro­duc­tion, lead­ing piece­meal to so­cial­ism, but so­cial­ize the crisis of cap­it­al­ist pro­duc­tion. The work­ers’ bour­geois de­mands for work and justice needed a pro­let­ari­an party for so­cial­ism to “achieve the con­scious­ness of the need to over­come la­bour as a com­mod­ity, to make the ‘ob­ject­ive’ eco­nom­ic con­tra­dic­tion, a ‘sub­ject­ive’ phe­nomen­on of polit­ics3 — “to take its his­tory in­to its own hands.”4 In Len­in’s terms, the re­vi­sion­ists’ “tail­ing” of trade uni­on con­scious­ness dis­solved the goal in­to the move­ment, li­quid­ated the need for the polit­ic­al party for so­cial­ism.

In the failed Ger­man re­volu­tion of 1918-1919 the So­cial Demo­crat­ic Party of Ger­many [SPD] li­quid­ated the work­ing class’ struggles in­to a bul­wark of cap­it­al­ism. Or, as polit­ic­al sci­ent­ist and Lux­em­burg bio­graph­er J.P. Nettl put it, the SPD be­came the “in­her­it­or party” of the Ger­man Im­per­i­al Reich­stag, for which it ap­peared to pos­ter­ity to have been pre­par­ing all along.5

It is in the con­text of Bona­partism, the re­vi­sion­ist dis­pute, and the prob­lem of so­cial­ist lead­er­ship that we need to place the La­bour Party and the Left’s re­la­tion­ship to it.

The La­bour Party

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The last great act of the Chartist move­ment was to trans­late the Com­mun­ist Mani­festo in 1848.6 By this time it had already ex­hausted it­self polit­ic­ally. In the second half of the nine­teenth cen­tury work­ing class polit­ics found ex­pres­sion in trade uni­ons, which sought the ameli­or­a­tion of their work­ing con­di­tions and to con­sol­id­ate these gains via the Trade Uni­on Con­gress (formed in 1868) pres­sur­ing the Lib­er­al Party in­to par­lia­ment­ary re­forms. The trade uni­ons sought to de­fend the in­terests of labor with­in the frame­work of cap­it­al­ism. Like in oth­er ad­vanced cap­it­al­ist coun­tries post-1848, Bri­tain’s state was Bona­partist, ap­peal­ing to mul­tiple dis­con­tents in so­ci­ety to form the polit­ic­al con­stitu­en­cies for the state’s ad­min­is­tra­tion of cap­it­al. This in­cluded the sim­ul­tan­eous growth in the UK of wel­fare, labor re­form, and the po­lice state. Ben­jamin Dis­raeli’s “one na­tion” con­ser­vat­ism is a good ex­ample of this.7

In 1899, the La­bour Rep­res­ent­a­tion Com­mit­tee (LRC) was formed. As well as trade uni­on af­fil­i­ates there was the So­cial Demo­crat­ic Fed­er­a­tion, the In­de­pend­ent La­bour Party (ILP), and the Fa­bi­an So­ci­ety. These groups had little in­flu­ence but sought to con­nect to the work­ing class. The LRC be­came the La­bour Party in 1906.

The Brit­ish La­bour Rep­res­ent­a­tion Com­mit­tee in 1906, which went on to form the La­bour Party the same year. Among those pic­tured are La­bour Party found­ing lead­er Keir Har­die; Ar­thur Hende­r­son; the first La­bour prime min­is­ter, Ram­say Mac­don­ald; Dav­id Shack­leton, and Philip Snowden.

This was the ex­ten­sion of trade-uni­on polit­ics in­to Par­lia­ment. In this sense the La­bour Party was no break with bour­geois polit­ics. It sought to do the job of the Lib­er­al Party in rep­res­ent­ing the in­terests of labor, only bet­ter. Could we say, in J.P. Nettl’s terms, that La­bour was to be an in­her­it­or party to the Lib­er­als in man­aging the cap­it­al­ist state? It cer­tainly seems that way from pos­ter­ity.

It is no co­in­cid­ence that the de­vel­op­ment of the La­bour Party in this man­ner par­alleled the re­vi­sion­ist dis­pute in the Second In­ter­na­tion­al. Len­in poin­ted out as much in What is to be Done?, when he elu­cid­ated the in­ter­na­tion­al char­ac­ter of re­vi­sion­ism, from Bern­stein in Ger­many to Miller­and in France, from the Eco­nom­ists in Rus­sia to the Fa­bi­ans in Eng­land.

Like Bern­stein, the left-wing ILP thought that the achieve­ment of trade uni­on re­forms in work, leg­al status, and polit­ic­al rights would gradu­ally lead to so­cial­ism. But for Marx­ists like Len­in and Lux­em­burg, the ILP’s at­tempt to use the ex­ist­ing state as a for­um to ab­ol­ish the in­equal­it­ies and in­justices of cap­it­al­ism could only deep­en the crisis of cap­it­al­ist pro­duc­tion. In the ab­sence of so­cial­ist lead­er­ship for the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at, the dis­con­tents of the work­ing class could only con­sti­tute the polit­ic­al sup­port for the state’s ad­min­is­tra­tion of cap­it­al­ism, no mat­ter who was in gov­ern­ment.

Writ­ing in 1917, Brit­ish Marx­ist Wil­li­am Paul ex­plained how a false con­cep­tion of so­cial­ism had misled work­ers: “Any de­mands, such as the re­duc­tion of taxes, the ex­ten­sion of tram­way car sys­tems, open­ing of mu­ni­cip­al pawn­shops and bury­ing-grounds, have been ad­voc­ated as ‘so­cial­ist­ic’ le­gis­la­tion… a mod­ern States­man could say ‘we are all so­cial­ists nowadays.’”8 In 1918 in re­sponse to work­ing class sup­port for the Bolshev­iks in Rus­sia, La­bour ad­op­ted Clause IV to try and of­fer an anti-Marx­ist al­tern­at­ive to the Brit­ish work­ing class.9 In the ILP, “class con­scious­ness” was re­placed by “com­munity con­scious­ness.”10 As Marx wrote of Las­salle’s “state so­cial­ism,” this was in fact state cap­it­al­ism, or Bona­partism. The La­bour Party’s “com­munity con­scious­ness” was already a par­al­lel to Dis­raeli’s “one na­tion.” La­bour Party state so­cial­ism re­con­ciled the work­ing class to cap­it­al­ism.

Last il­lu­sions

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Many on the left today jus­ti­fy their activ­ity with ref­er­ence to Len­in’s call for the Com­mun­ist Party of Great Bri­tain to enter La­bour in 1920. But this needs to be un­der­stood in the con­text of a num­ber of factors: ul­tra-left­ism in­ter­na­tion­ally, the re­l­at­ive youth of the La­bour Party, and the ex­ist­ence of a com­pletely in­de­pend­ent Com­mun­ist Party and the Third In­ter­na­tion­al. The idea was to ex­pose the bour­geois polit­ics of the La­bour Party to its mass base — as Len­in put it, “so that the masses may be more quickly weaned away from their last il­lu­sions on this score.”11 The aim was to win work­ers en masse away from La­bour in or­der to build an in­de­pend­ent work­ing class party.

But there has been no in­de­pend­ent move­ment for so­cial­ism since the fail­ure of the Rus­si­an Re­volu­tion to spread and Marx­ism self-li­quid­ated in Sta­lin­ism in the 1920s and 30s — as Trot­sky put it, “gen­er­a­tions thrown in­to dis­card.”12 In such an ab­sence crit­ic­al sup­port turns out to be un­crit­ic­al sup­port for La­bour.

Ad­min­istered state

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In the 1930s, the La­bour lead­er­ship moved fur­ther away from its work­ing class base, through the li­quid­a­tion of work­ing class polit­ics in­to “na­tion­al solu­tion” polit­ics. Re­call again Dis­raeli’s bona­partist “one na­tion.”

In the in­ter­war years, Clause IV be­came a prom­ise for bet­ter man­age­ment of cap­it­al­ism, like FDR’s New Deal. This set the tone for the “spir­it of ’45” in which the first La­bour gov­ern­ment’s wel­fare state re­struc­tured the eco­nomy in the post­war glob­al re­align­ment un­der Amer­ic­an he­ge­mony. Con­ser­vat­ives and lib­er­als re­cog­nized a need for the state to take on a great­er role in ad­min­is­ter­ing cap­it­al. Thus the Left could feel like its watch­words of wel­fare and na­tion­al­iz­a­tion were be­ing real­ized, all the while change was be­ing led by the right. The wel­fare state was the new polit­ic­al con­sensus. This was to leave La­bour trail­ing in the 1950s boom. As the So­cial­ist Party of Great Bri­tain wrote after La­bour’s elec­tion de­feat in 1959, “When the pi­on­eers of the La­bour Party dreamed of pla­cing them­selves at the head of a grate­ful army of elect­ors by en­act­ing so­cial re­forms, they nev­er thought of a pos­sib­il­ity of a Tory Party that beat them at the same game.”13

There was no so­cial­ist lead­er­ship to grasp how such re­forms ac­tu­ally deepened the so­cial­iz­a­tion of the crisis of cap­it­al­ist pro­duc­tion. There was no goal to con­sti­tute the class struggle.

Dress­ing up de­feats

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As La­bour tried to ad­apt un­der Hugh Gait­skell, the La­bour left, des­pite ap­pear­ing op­posed to Gait­skell, only dis­agreed on the ra­tios of dis­tri­bu­tion and tax and the de­gree of na­tion­al­iz­a­tion, be­cause, fun­da­ment­ally, they agreed that “so­cial­ism” was an is­sue of state ad­min­is­tra­tion. After the de­feat of 1959, the La­bour left fought to re­tain Clause IV, against Gait­skell’s at­tempts to mod­ern­ize. The left was suc­cess­ful… in de­fend­ing that which was drawn up to draw work­ers away from re­volu­tion­ary polit­ics. Small Trot­sky­ist groups, like those around the journ­al La­bour Re­view, sought to break up the Sta­lin­ist Com­mun­ist Party so that its mem­bers who “de­sire to fight as real com­mun­ists” could enter La­bour and “gain power­ful sup­port from the rank and file.” After all, the La­bour Re­view ed­it­ors wrote, “the day-to-day ex­per­i­ences of the work­ing class are con­tinu­ously vin­dic­at­ing Marx­ism.” There­fore, they thought they could struggle with­in the La­bour Party to win the rank and file “for Marx­ist ideas” to form a new Marx­ist lead­er­ship and to “open the way for the de­vel­op­ment of so­cial­ist policies with­in the La­bour Party.”14 But, as has been the case for nearly a cen­tury, the La­bour Party used the rad­ic­al left rather than the oth­er way around.

In the 1960s, in the ab­sence of any real ef­fic­acy, the left of La­bour turned more and more to is­sues of for­eign af­fairs, anti-co­lo­ni­al­ism, anti-nuc­le­ar and so­cial justice, etc., on which they could either have no real im­pact or on which “pro­gress­ive” policies could be im­ple­men­ted by the right. The move­ment­ism of the 1960s New Left was taken up by Trot­sky­ist groups like In­ter­na­tion­al Marx­ist Group (IMG) and the In­ter­na­tion­al So­cial­ists (IS) (later the So­cial­ist Work­ers Party) aim­ing to push La­bour to the left, from in­side and/or out­side the party. The vic­tory of the La­bour left in re­tain­ing Clause IV in 1960 signaled its de­feat. Un­der these cir­cum­stances arose the dis­in­teg­rated an­ti­nomy of par­lia­ment­ary and non-par­lia­ment­ary work. The most as­tute ob­ser­va­tion in Ral­ph Miliband’s es­say “The Sick­ness of La­bour­ism”15 is his choice of epi­graph from Dis­raeli in 1881: “It is a very dif­fi­cult coun­try to move, Mr. Hyndman, a very dif­fi­cult coun­try in­deed, and one in which there is more dis­ap­point­ment to be looked for than suc­cess.”

“Par­lia­ment­ary” and “non-par­lia­ment­ary” work would need to be me­di­ated by a mass work­ing class so­cial­ist party, in which the­or­et­ic­al dis­putes could be con­duc­ted in a dia­lect­ic­al re­la­tion to prac­tic­al tasks, in which the de­mands of work­ers for their bour­geois right, for re­forms, could be used to edu­cate the work­ing class in the ne­ces­sity of its polit­ic­al in­de­pend­ence, of tak­ing power in the dic­tat­or­ship of the pro­let­ari­at — only then could the struggle for so­cial­ism be­gin. We are a long way off.

Blair­ism

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For nearly a cen­tury, the La­bour Party has used the rad­ic­al left to pre­serve and re­pro­duce it­self in crises. In 1978 the Re­volu­tion­ary Com­mun­ist Tend­ency cri­tiqued the Left’s ori­ent­a­tion to La­bour and at­tempts to “fight the right” through La­bour, ar­guing that, in the ab­sence of an in­de­pend­ent al­tern­at­ive, “far from be­ing an al­tern­at­ive to La­bour, mil­it­ant activ­ity can ac­tu­ally sus­tain il­lu­sions in re­form­ism… The rad­ic­al left fails to un­der­stand that… the work­ing class will not spon­tan­eously re­ject the re­form­ist pro­gram.”16 Spiked! on­line main­tains that La­bour has be­come anti-work­ing class, ar­guing that today we need something totally new.17 However, today the im­petus to­wards a non-La­bour al­tern­at­ive has slipped away — for ex­ample, in Left Unity’s self-dis­sol­u­tion — and most groups on the Left at­tempt vari­ously to ori­ent their activ­it­ies to­wards the La­bour Party. The dis­in­teg­rated an­ti­nomy of par­lia­ment­ary and non-par­lia­ment­ary work is re­pro­duced. There is no break with La­bour on the ho­ri­zon.18

Splits from the So­cial­ist Work­ers Party, such as Coun­ter­fire and RS21, con­tin­ue to ad­voc­ate protest move­ments, e.g. anti-aus­ter­ity marches, to sup­port Corbyn from the out­side. The Al­li­ance for Work­ers’ Liberty have taken a more hands-on ap­proach with­in Mo­mentum, and now Grass­roots Mo­mentum, where in­ter­est­ing fis­sures have ap­peared over demo­cracy and or­gan­iz­a­tion­al struc­ture between left-wing com­munity act­iv­ists and Marx­ist groups try­ing to or­gan­ize with­in the party. Giv­en the gen­er­al con­sid­er­a­tion on the Left that Blair­ism had put an end to the long chapter of the Left’s struggles with­in La­bour, what has changed with Corbyn? And what if the ap­par­ent change masks con­tinu­ity between Old La­bour, New La­bour, and the present?

Many on the Left saw Blair’s trans­form­a­tion of La­bour and ab­ol­i­tion of clause IV as a qual­it­at­ive change from a con­tra­dict­ory “bour­geois work­ers’ party” to a pure cap­it­al­ist party, in which no such con­tra­dic­tion ex­is­ted. For ex­ample, Work­ers’ Ham­mer ar­gued that Blair’s La­bour was not the kind of mass re­form­ist work­ers’ party to which “re­volu­tion­ar­ies can con­sider ex­tend­ing crit­ic­al sup­port.”19 Thus, many on the Left “crit­ic­ally” sup­por­ted or tried to work with­in Ar­thur Scar­gill’s So­cial­ist La­bour Party, which split with Blair in 1996 over Clause IV, an all but for­got­ten epis­ode in the Left’s his­tory with the La­bour Party. 20 years later, Corbyn seems to have re­versed the spell with his talk of “so­cial­ism, trade uni­on rights, im­mig­rants’ rights, and op­pos­i­tion to NATO.”20 Al­though by sup­port­ing Re­main, Corbyn failed to rep­res­ent the in­terest of work­ing people, 21 in the fight against the Blair­ites he is said to rep­res­ent “the griev­ances of the work­ing class, minor­it­ies and the im­pov­er­ished.”22 There is a “class war” with­in La­bour, in which Marx­ists should have Corbyn’s side.23 If the Blair­ites can be driv­en out, the hope is, La­bour will be trans­formed back in­to a “par­lia­ment­ary so­cial­ist La­bour Party”24 with Corbyn at the helm.

However, be­fore Blair, in Tony Benn’s 1988 lead­er­ship con­test against Neil Kin­nock, Work­ers Ham­mer ad­voc­ated “no sup­port for either side.”25 It’s worth quot­ing the ar­gu­ment in full:

Benn’s cam­paign has been por­trayed by the bour­geois press and most of the os­tens­ibly so­cial­ist left as a Dav­id and Go­liath battle for the “so­cial­ist soul” of the party against Kin­nock/Hat­ters­ley’s overt scab­bing and “new real­ism.” But the La­bour “lefts’“ in­dul­gence in the time­worn re­form­ist rhet­or­ic of the par­lia­ment­ary road to demo­crat­ic so­cial­ism, “uni­lat­er­al­ism,” non-align­ment, dis­arm­a­ment and na­tion­al­ist “Little Eng­land” pro­tec­tion­ism is no al­tern­at­ive to Kin­nock’s more re­ac­tion­ary agenda for class peace in Thatch­er’s Bri­tain. In­deed, this con­test re­flects the clas­sic and his­tor­ic sym­bi­ot­ic re­la­tion between the La­bour “left” and right that has main­tained the party for dec­ades as the primary obstacle to pro­let­ari­an re­volu­tion on these isles.

The Len­in­ist also ob­served the dangers of com­mun­ists sup­port­ing the La­bour left against the right. Shortly after Benn’s de­feat, Jack Con­rad ar­gued that the La­bour left serves simply to di­vert pop­u­lar protest in­to “safe par­lia­ment­ary chan­nels.” He warned: “We must nev­er let the heat of these ar­gu­ments ob­scure the fact that ul­ti­mately the re­la­tion­ship between the La­bour left and right is sym­bi­ot­ic — they both need each oth­er. This is the ab­so­lute and gen­er­al law of La­bour­ism.” 26

If Corbyn suc­cess­fully wrests con­trol of the party and re­moves the Blair­ites, then will his party be “a mass re­form­ist work­ers party [that] stands in­de­pend­ently of bour­geois parties, and os­tens­ibly in the in­terest of work­ing people?”27 Or does Corbyn’s struggle rep­res­ent the “his­tor­ic sym­bi­ot­ic re­la­tion” between the left and right of La­bour?28 At least one thing is clear: As in 1988, Corbyn’s con­test is “por­trayed by the bour­geois press and most of the os­tens­ibly so­cial­ist left as a Dav­id and Go­liath battle for the ‘so­cial­ist soul’ of the party.”29 It seems Blair dis­solved the “his­tor­ic sym­bi­ot­ic re­la­tion between the La­bour ‘left’ and right that has main­tained the party for dec­ades as the primary obstacle to pro­let­ari­an re­volu­tion”30 to such an ex­tent that the re­cru­des­cence of some ver­sion of the old La­bour “left” con­sti­tutes a “class war.”

La­bour Party Marx­ists sim­il­arly ar­gue that “the civil war ra­ging in the La­bour Party is a highly con­cen­trated form of the class struggle” and there­fore “an un­par­alleled his­tor­ic op­por­tun­ity” to re-found the La­bour Party as a genu­ine “polit­ic­al party of the work­ers.”31 They see their task as the demo­crat­iz­a­tion of the La­bour Party to cre­ate the con­di­tions for a Marx­ist sec­tion to af­fil­i­ate to La­bour and struggle with­in to de­vel­op a Marx­ist lead­er­ship and im­ple­ment a new Marx­ist (not the old “state so­cial­ist”) Clause IV. James Mar­shall of LPM bases his ar­gu­ment on Len­in’s speech re­gard­ing af­fil­i­ation to La­bour in 1920, in which the char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion of a party is said to be de­pend­ent not on its work­ing class base but on the polit­ics of its lead­er­ship. For Len­in, this meant that the La­bour Party was “a thor­oughly bour­geois party, be­cause, al­though made up of work­ers, it is led by re­ac­tion­ar­ies, and the worst kind of re­ac­tion­ar­ies at that, who act quite in the spir­it of the bour­geois­ie. It is an or­gan­iz­a­tion of the bour­geois­ie, which ex­ists to sys­tem­at­ic­ally dupe the work­ers with the aid of the Brit­ish No­skes and Scheidemanns [the ex­e­cu­tion­ers of Rosa Lux­em­burg and Karl Lieb­knecht].”32

This ana­lys­is still ap­plies, ar­gues Mar­shall, but with a dif­fer­ence. “In­stead of a two-way con­tra­dic­tion between the lead­er­ship and the mem­ber­ship, we now have a three-way con­tra­dic­tion. The left dom­in­ates both the top and bot­tom of the party.” That is, Corbyn’s lead­er­ship is not a bour­geois-re­form­ist lead­er­ship, at­tached to a work­ers’ base, but rather both are “left.” The hated Par­lia­ment­ary La­bour Party [PLP] is the “bour­geois party” im­bed­ded with­in. It is the PLP, and not Corbyn’s lead­er­ship, Mar­shall ar­gues, to which Len­in’s as­sess­ment of La­bour’s bour­geois polit­ic­al lead­er­ship still ap­plies. But what does it mean to say that a base or lead­er­ship is “left” with re­gard to Len­in’s ar­gu­ment? If the PLP is “bour­geois,” what does that make Corbyn? Can Len­in’s con­cern with bour­geois vs. so­cial­ist lead­er­ship be so eas­ily as­sim­il­ated to con­tem­por­ary, or even his­tor­ic, “left” vs. “right” di­vi­sions with­in La­bour?33 For nearly a cen­tury, the La­bour Party has used the rad­ic­al left rather than the oth­er way around. What would it mean for it to be oth­er­wise today?

Change

.
In the present, cap­it­al­ism is re­con­sti­t­ut­ing it­self polit­ic­ally through change. Corbyn’s lead­er­ship and the mem­ber­ship swell are, of course, phe­nom­ena of this mo­ment. But it is hard to tell how ex­actly they re­late to the wider changes we are see­ing. In Feb­ru­ary YouGov polls showed La­bour in third place amongst work­ing class voters, with whom the Tor­ies poll nearly twice as high as La­bour.34 Trade Uni­on activ­ity is at a his­tor­ic low. Work­ers Ham­mer has ar­gued that re­volu­tion­ar­ies should de­fend Corbyn be­cause the “cap­it­al­ists” could nev­er agree to his pro­posed re­forms on in­fra­struc­ture, man­u­fac­tur­ing, and “put­ting the pop­u­la­tion back in­to pro­duct­ive work.”35 But this sup­poses that Corbyn’s policy is so far-reach­ing as to be a fantasy that could nev­er be im­ple­men­ted with­in the cap­it­al­ist state. Bona­partists have suc­cess­fully im­ple­men­ted deep re­forms to bet­ter man­age cap­it­al and dis­con­tents in the past, al­ways amidst polit­ic­al op­pos­i­tion. Hil­lel Tick­t­in has ar­gued re­cently in the Weekly Work­er that, as cap­it­al­ism is chan­ging, there is ac­tu­ally great­er scope for re­form­ing in the in­terest of cap­it­al. “While Jeremy Corbyn and John Mc­Don­nell both talk about so­cial­ism, they are not even very rad­ic­al, let alone so­cial­ist.” The La­bour right, however, stig­mat­izes Mc­Don­nell’s mea­ger policies as “so­cial­ist.” Tick­t­in notes, “this shows the nature of rightwing La­bour — it does not un­der­stand the sys­tem it is sup­port­ing.”36 What does it show about the Left today that they share the same fantasy? |P

Notes


1 The pan­el de­scrip­tion can be found at <ox­fordrad­ic­alfor­um.files.word­press.com/2017/03/orf-pro­gram.pdf>.
2 Marx, The Civil War in France.
3 Chris Cutrone, “Sac­ri­fice and Re­demp­tion” Weekly Work­er 1115 (14 Ju­ly 2016).
4 Rosa Lux­em­burg, The Ju­ni­us Pamph­let: The Crisis of Ger­man So­cial Demo­cracy (1915).
5 Peter Nettl, “The Ger­man So­cial Demo­crat­ic Party 1890-1914 as a Polit­ic­al Mod­el” Past and Present 30:1 (1964), 65-95.
6 Dav­id Black, “The elu­sive ‘threads of his­tor­ic­al pro­gress’: The early Chartists and the young Marx and En­gels” Platy­pus Re­view 42 (Decem­ber 2011-Janu­ary 2012).
7 R.C., “The Ori­gin of ‘One-Na­tion’ Polit­ics” The Eco­nom­ist.
8 Wil­li­am Paul, The State: Its Ori­gin and Func­tion (Glas­gow: So­cial­ist La­bour Press, 1917).
9 Clause IV of the La­bour Party’s 1918 con­sti­tu­tion, writ­ten by the Fa­bi­an Sid­ney Webb, com­mit­ted the party to “the com­mon own­er­ship of the means of pro­duc­tion, dis­tri­bu­tion, and ex­change.” Its de­fense be­came a ral­ly­ing cry for the left of the party in the 20th cen­tury, but it was fi­nally changed by Tony Blair in 1995.
10 “The watch­word of so­cial­ism is not class-con­scious­ness but com­munity con­scious­ness.” J. Ram­say Mac­Don­ald, So­cial­ism and So­ci­ety, Sixth Edi­tion (Lon­don: In­de­pend­ent La­bour Party, 1908 [First edi­tion 1905]), 144.
11 V. I. Len­in, “Theses on Fun­da­ment­al Tasks of The Second Con­gress Of The Com­mun­ist In­ter­na­tion­al” [1920].
12 Le­on Trot­sky, “To Build Com­mun­ist Parties and an In­ter­na­tion­al Anew” [1933].
13 “Fu­ture of the La­bour Party” So­cial­ist Stand­ard 55:664 (Decem­ber 1959).
14 “La­bour and Lead­er­ship” La­bour Re­view 3:1 (Jan-Feb, 1958).
15 Ral­ph Miliband, “The Sick­ness of La­bour­ism” New Left Re­view I/1 (Janu­ary-Feb­ru­ary 1960).
16 Mike Free­man and Kate Mar­shall, Who Needs the La­bour Party? (Lon­don: Re­volu­tion­ary Com­mun­ist Tend­ency, 1978).
17 Tom Slater, “Who Can Save La­bour? No One” Sp!ked On­line Septem­ber 12, 2016.
18 “La­bour­ism Re­booted” 1917: Journ­al of the In­ter­na­tion­al Bolshev­ik Tend­ency 38.
19 “Sparta­cist League State­ment Work­ers Ham­mer 156 (May–June 1997).
20 “Class War in the La­bour Party” Work­ers Ham­mer 233 (Winter, 2015-2016).
21 “Brexit: De­feat for the Bankers and Bosses of Europe!” Work­ers Ham­mer 234 (Sum­mer, 2016).
22 “Class War,” op. cit.
23 Ibid.
24 “Let Jeremy Corbyn Run the La­bour Party” Work­ers Ham­mer 236 (Au­tumn 2016).
25 “Kin­nock, Benn: No Choice” Work­ers Ham­mer 98 (May–June 1988).
26 Jack Con­rad, “Build the Com­mun­ist Al­tern­at­ive” The Len­in­ist 71 (Novem­ber 1, 1988).
27 “Sparta­cist League State­ment.”
28 “Kin­nock, Benn,” op. cit.
29 Ibid.
30 Ibid.
31 James Mar­shall, “After Corbyn’s Second Vic­tory” Weekly Work­er 1112 (Septem­ber 24, 2016).
32 V. I. Len­in, “Speech on Af­fil­i­ation to the Brit­ish La­bour Party” [1920].
33 “Since there can be no talk of an in­de­pend­ent ideo­logy for­mu­lated by the work­ing masses them­selves in the pro­cess of their move­ment, the only choice is – either bour­geois or so­cial­ist ideo­logy. There is no middle course (for man­kind has not cre­ated a ‘third’ ideo­logy, and, moreover, in a so­ci­ety torn by class ant­ag­on­isms there can nev­er be a non-class or an above-class ideo­logy). Hence, to be­little the so­cial­ist ideo­logy in any way, to turn aside from it in the slight­est de­gree means to strengthen bour­geois ideo­logy. There is much talk of spon­taneity. But the spon­tan­eous de­vel­op­ment of the work­ing-class move­ment leads to its sub­or­din­a­tion to bour­geois ideo­logy, to its de­vel­op­ment along the lines of the Credo pro­gram; for the spon­tan­eous work­ing-class move­ment is trade-uni­on­ism, is Nur-Gew­erkschaftlerei, and trade uni­on­ism means the ideo­lo­gic­al en­slave­ment of the work­ers by the bour­geois­ie.” Len­in, What is to be Done?
34 Rachel Roberts, “La­bour Now Third most Pop­u­lar Party Among Work­ing Class Voters, Poll Finds” The In­de­pend­ent Feb­ru­ary 13, 2017.
35 “Corbyn land­slide, Blair­ite back­lash” Work­ers Ham­mer 232 (Au­tumn 2015).
36 Hil­lel Tick­t­in, “Con­fused Re­form­ism” Weekly Work­er 1132 (Novem­ber 24, 2016).


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